Possession
by Ranranami
Summary: Immediately following the events of 'Letting Go'. Just when Sam thinks maybe things are going back to normal, he's got Star's ghost haunting him. Meanwhile, Edgar and Alan have their own issues to deal with now that they think Edgar may be changing into a bloodsucker. And the Lost Boys? Yeah. They're still absolutely insane.
1. Chapter 1: Bad Dreams

Author's notes: I could NOT RESIST this dream sequence. It was just too juicy. Some day I may actually expand it into a one-off story as a gag. Anyway, this is obviously picking up right where I left off at 'Letting Go'.

* * *

Lucy sat with her son at the kitchen table. She'd sent the Frog brothers to bed, given how upset they looked. And she wanted to talk to Sam alone. Just looking at her made him feel like the world's biggest jerk. She didn't need all this stress, after everything they'd all been through together. With Max, with Mike...and Star's sudden disappearance. Maybe she'd seen the boys on the boardwalk before him, and had skipped town...it was something to think about.

"You, um..." Lucy cleared her throat, trying to give him a thin smile as she plucked at the cuffs of her robe and looked down at her hands clasped on the tabletop. "You were out pretty late with your girlfriend, weren't you? Would you like to tell me why?"

Sam took in a deep breath and let it out. He just didn't want to lie anymore. At first it had been about protecting her, but clearly he was hurting his mom anyway just by keeping it to himself. "Did grandpa tell you about Mike?"

There was a high pitched shriek from the stove, and Lucy got up to grab the kettle and fill two glasses on the counter with boiling water. She then set it down and dipped two tea bags into the glasses until they had settled to the bottom. With her back still turned to Sam, she sighed.

"When you still weren't back by midnight, yes, he did mention it. Because he wasn't sure if you'd come home or not," she turned back to Sam with the glasses in hand. "Did you...try and kill your brother tonight?"

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Mom, why would you think I'd wanna kill Mike?!"

She reached the table and placed Sam's drink in front of him, sliding back down into her own seat and wrapping her hands around it to keep them warm. "I don't know what other conclusion I could come to, Sam. I doubted he was going to try to kill you, if what your grandfather told me is true. He would have come home to try it by now. And I don't really know much about..." She faltered, reaching up to rub her temples and squeeze her eyes shut. " _Vampires..._ but...I'd like to think I still know Michael. Whatever's left of him..."

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest, bewildered, "but you think I'd kill him?"

"No, I don't. But with how you've been acting lately, and the trouble you and those Frog boys have been getting into...I'm starting to feel like I don't know _you_ anymore, Sam. I feel like...you're going crazy right in front of me, and there's _nothing_ I can do to help you."

"Mom, I promise I'm not gonna do anything crazy anymore. It was mostly Ed and Alan. I've just been following them around trying to keep them from doing stupid stuff, and it doesn't work...they just end up dragging me into it...and...and..."

Lucy held up a hand and nodded, the tension easing from her face somewhat after his confession, "I believe you, Sam. But we needed to have this talk. I don't want you staying out after dark anymore if you can help it. I'm going to call their family tomorrow and see about getting them some professional help. We can't play this secrets game anymore, though, do you understand me? If something happens, I want you to come right out and _tell me._ I'm your mother. I'll love you and Michael no matter what." With that, she stood up from the table to lean over and pull him into a gentle hug, stroking her delicate fingers through his hair like he was five years old again and had just woken up from a nightmare.

"Mom..." Sam whispered against her shoulder. "Ed drank vampire blood tonight..."

There was a sudden snort and intake of breath from the doorway. Sam nearly slipped out of his chair when he caught sight of his grandfather eyeballing them both, a root beer held firmly in his left hand, a stuffed rooster in a smoking jacket tucked under his right arm..

"If that were true, he wouldn't be asleep right now. He'd be wide awake. Popped my head in there to check on them both. That one with the girly haircut conked out right when he hit the bed."

Sam slumped in his seat. If gramps was right...did that mean Michael's friends were just screwing with them?! Those..." _ **Shit-sucking**_ ** _crotch-monkeys!"_**

"SAM!" Lucy scolded.

Grandpa Emerson only chuckled and took a gulp of root beer. "Glad to see you're not dead. Might not wanna call them that to their faces though."

* * *

Alan sat wide-eyed in a chair by Sam's bedroom door, watching his brother sleep. The minute they'd gotten in, his head hit the pillow like a ton of bricks. If they made it through this, he'd have to document everything Ed did as he slowly became a bloodsucker from beyond the grave. To help others in preventing the same horrible fate from befalling their loved ones.

He squeezed his hands tightly around a makeshift cross he'd constructed from pencils and tape, prepared to hold it out in front of him if at any given time Ed decided to wake up and make him a midnight snack. Sam might have gotten lucky with his brother, but that was probably because Michael didn't start out as a man who'd honed himself into a deadly weapon, like he and Ed had. If anything, Edgar could be one of the deadliest monsters to hit Santa Carla in decades.

"Don't worry, bro. The minute you start acting funny, I'll be here for you. I'll...stake you in a heartbeat..." Alan promised aloud, his knuckles practically white now from squeezing his pencil cross so hard. And while Alan made his vow, Edgar...dreamt...

* * *

Fog crept in with the rolling tide, bringing along with it a ship crewed by a dozen dead men. The captain of the vessel, Sam Emerson, had strapped himself to the wheel to keep it on course...but he was long dead. His face, frozen in a mask of terror. He was a brave and noble soul, but this fortitude of will could not protect him from the deadly cargo that rested in the hold below, or the lone survivor later found clinging to it whispering of salvation and immortality. The man in question, Alan Frog, had been driven completely insane.

It was not long before the coffin inside the hold disappeared, along with it's occupant. Edgar-mir Tsepish. Otherwise known as...Ed-gula.

He would cut a wide swath through London, staining the city streets with the blood of a hundred innocent souls, and every night before dawn he would return to Carla-fax Abbey to rest and imagine his long lost love. Lucy...

The night he finally came to her to perch at her balcony window, his cloak billowed behind him, as did his long trailing hair-sash, and he was greeted by the terrible sight of Van Grandpa Emerson himself!

"So, you've come to take Lucy, eh?" The old man inquired, taking a gulp of root beer and brandishing his sharpened squirrel.

"It's too late, Van Grandpa! She's mine already!" Count Ed-gula hissed, drawing away from the old man as he approached, pulling his cloak up to cover his face.

And just as the squirrel was pounded into his chest, Edgar woke up screaming on the bed, drenched in sweat. He was then seized by the most incredible stomach cramps he'd ever experienced. No doubt, his body already beginning to transition to his new metabolism. He was actually beginning to sympathize with Sam's brother.

* * *

David reclined on his coat, which he'd spread out beneath them on the cave floor. He was glaring furiously at Michael, who lay beside him with his hands tucked behind his back and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Their clothing lay crumpled in a pile nearby, David's pants torn to shreds.

"You're going to pay for that," David warned his companion, who simply shrugged and turned over on his side away from David and acted as if he was going to take a nap.

With his eyes still closed, Michael held up his middle finger. "Next time I tell you not to rip off my buttons, don't rip off my buttons."

David sat up and grabbed his childe by the shoulder, jerking him onto his back and climbing on top to straddle his hips. "Now, where's the fun in that?" He hissed, fangs descending.


	2. Chapter 2: Dazed

Author's notes: I don't know if the last chapter had a big enough hint at the very end about what this one would start off with. So...there's some naughtiness. If you don't like that, please skip to the next portion in which the naughtiness has ended. Suffice it to say, David does bad things to Michael, and Michael seems to be okay with it for once. Thank you. Also, when you're typing up story chapters on doc manager...be sure to save a copy before you hit save on the page =_=

* * *

David leaned down to nip at Michael's neck, drawing a few drops of blood and immediately lapping it up. It was delicious. Rich and hot, just as good (if not better) as the night he'd turned him, with the added tang of something indefinable. The intoxicating flavor of a vampire. Michael gave a soft hiss and shivered beneath him, digging his claws into David's back and drawing long gashes.

 _"Mmmm...enjoying yourself?"_ David mentally taunted, drawing back to give him a smug grin.

 _"Asshole,"_ Michael's irritated response as he glared up at his maker with slightly glazed golden eyes. It was bad enough he had to put up with David's smug face and haughty attitude when they weren't screwing, for once he wished the bastard could just keep his stupid mouth shut.

 _"It is shut, Michael. I didn't say a word,"_ David replied in his mind, giving him another fanged grin before leaning down and digging his fangs deep into Michael's neck. This elicited a sharp cry from the brunette, and he drew up a leg to wrap it around the small of David's back. The more blood was drawn from him, the more they began to grind against each other, their growls echoing in the chamber around them. They were both teetering on the edge of control, halfway between rational creatures and beasts. When David finally drew away, licking Michael's blood from around his lips and off of his childe's neck, Michael pulled him closer and now it was _his_ turn to sink his fangs into David's neck.

And just then, as things were really beginning to heat up, Paul's voice echoed in their minds, " _I give them five minutes,"_

 _"My money's on ten,"_ Dwayne.

 _"Eh, I've seen them go half an hour before. If Davey makes it past the first couple of minutes, he'll probably-"_

Michael pulled his fangs out of David's neck and reached over to grab a shoe and lob it at the group standing at the entrance to the chamber, nailing Marko right in the face. The smaller vampire yelped in surprise.

" _Some fucking privacy, please?!"_ Michael hissed at them, licking blood from his fangs. David sat up and turned to glare at them in warning. It wasn't an empty threat. He was _pissed._ It wasn't that he really cared if there was an audience, but commentary definitely was not welcome.

* * *

Sam yawned, pushing open his bedroom door and peeking inside. Edgar was rolling on the bed as if he was having a fit, and Alan was freaking out while pacing around the bed holding a...

"Dude, are those my pencils?" Sam raised his eyebrows. Alan had obviously been digging through his things. But at least he wasn't sharpening the legs of Sam's desk chair. This was a little ridiculous. Clearly they weren't taking too well to the the prank his brother's...his what? His friends? Whatever they were...Clearly they weren't taking to well to the the prank his brother's 'whatevers' had played on them. He really should just come out and tell them it wasn't really blood Edgar had been forced to drink back in that cave. Probably just something gross that gave him food poisoning.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, recalling when they'd just thrown him under the bus earlier that night, practically offered him as a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. And yeah, they probably hadn't been in any _real_ danger, but they hadn't _known_ that at the time. So he was at a crossroads right now. On the one hand, he could end the Frog brothers' misery, tell them the truth, and they could all get a good night's sleep...but on the other hand...

"Y'know, I don't think the head vampire is in that group. Maybe it wasn't even Max. Guys, I don't know how we're going to save Ed," Sam shook his head, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically and sighing loudly. "But don't worry..." He added, keeping his eyes closed and pausing as if he were about to deliver a monologue, "I think there may be a way to save Ed. To find out where the real head vampire is..."

Alan jerked his head towards Sam, eyes widening. "Why didn't you tell us when we were in the car?!" He exclaimed, voice cracking as he edged away from the bed so Edgar couldn't reach out to him. Fear and concern warred with each other on his face as he watched his brother's suffering, unable to help him.

Just then, Ed's stomach gave a loud lurch and Sam wrinkled his nose. "Ed, maybe you should go to the bathroom. And get off my bed. Like...right now..." He paused. "Because I think Mike had massive diarrhea when he started changing..."

Alan turned on him, exasperated, "why didn't you tell us that when it happened?!"

"...I...didn't...think it was...relevant..." Sam pressed a fist to his mouth, trying to make his eyes look as deadly serious as possible even as he struggled to cover his grin. It was funny, looking back on when he first told the Frogs about his brother, thinking they had all the answers. He was going to enjoy this, after everything they'd put him through this week.

* * *

Dwayne, Paul, and Marko floated towards their perches at the roof of the former dining hall. Each of them sported a battle wound of some kind, though Paul bore the brunt of it...possibly because his bet on David's performance was the least flattering.

"Someone's touchy," Paul remarked, rubbing at his right eye. The bruise was still healing, and he'd have to sew his jacket sleeve back on later.

"He's probably on the rag," Marko's snide reply as he latched his feet onto the pipe above them and lowered himself to dangle with his arms above his head.

 _"Don't think I won't kick your asses again!"_ David's voice snapped in their minds as he and Michael entered the chamber together. They were running late, having had to dig through a mountain of recent prizes from their hunts to scrounge up some new pants.

Dwayne had already healed from the minor cuts and gashes to his person, but he was still a little surprised. Normally he could take David in a fight. Granted, they hadn't really gotten into a scuffle since Max was around, so maybe he was just stronger than he used to be. Food for thought, he mused, settling into his spot and crossing his arms over his chest. Of course, there was also the chance that maybe...Star was possessing him...but he shook the thought away when he caught sight of Thorn padding after Michael into the room, remarkably calm. Still, something was nagging at him.

" _David, Thorn needs to keep guard by the entrance today. If Star comes back somehow, we'll need the extra protection."_

David flew towards his perch, nodding down to the hellhound. It took off running from the chamber.

 _"Dude...can he read your mind?"_ Paul glanced over at David, genuinely surprised.

David shrugged, _"he can do a lot of stuff. Still haven't figured out the half of it yet,"_ he seemed to be calming down now that he'd gotten a bit of action. Even Michael didn't seem as grumpy as he normally was, sidling up near David without so much as one complaint. Or at least not acknowledging what he was doing. By now it had become routine.

 _"Isn't that sweet?"_ Marko teased.

 _"Fuck off, Marko,"_ Michael growled.

* * *

Grandpa Emerson sighed, sliding out of his bed and stretching his arms above his head. Every joint and muscle creaked with the effort. It wasn't easy, being old. Of course, some of those creaks and aches were thanks to the Widow Johnson. He smirked to himself as he pulled on his plaid robe and tied it about his waist, heading out of his bedroom to head towards his workshop and catch his morning showing of 'The Love Boat'.

But as he drew towards the doors, he paused. Something didn't feel quite right. Everyone should be asleep...but he was pretty sure he heard breathing. He scratched at his chin and slowly drew the doors open, to be greeted by the sight of his youngest grandson standing completely still, staring down at a collection of horns. The same ones that blondie had been impaled on last summer.

"Sam? What're you doin' in here?" He lowered his voice, "did you forget the rules about my workshop?"

Slowly, the teenager turned around and met his gaze. His eyes looked funny. The old man rubbed at his face and blinked several times, squinting at Sam and stepping closer to him. "Something wrong with you?"

Sam's eyes looked like they were back to normal. And he seemed to be coming out of some sort of daze, shaking his head. "Uh...what? What am I doing here?" He looked about, confused. And severely creeped out. He hated this room. That was why Grandpa Emerson was so surprised to see him in there.

"You been sleepwalking, Sam? Didn't know you did that..." He placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder and gave it a firm pat. "Go back to bed, kid. You look beat."

As the boy shuffled quickly out of the room, his grandfather could swear he caught the faint scent of perfume wafting off of him. He grunted, shaking his head. "Boy's got problems, that's for sure." He must have been digging through that hippy girl's things. Better perfume than lipstick, the old man supposed. Course, if the boy started wearing nylons, he'd have to have a serious talk with Lucy.


	3. Chapter 3: The Prank Begins

Lucy rushed into the kitchen, hands busily fiddling with a silk scarf at her neck, heels clicking sharply on the tile. She was running late for work, having spent half the morning talking to the Frogs' aunt over the phone, and the other half trying to arrange for an appointment with a counselor for them. Luckily, their aunt actually supplied her with a reliable one. Apparently they'd been taken to counseling sessions before, and had been actively engaged in them before they moved out of Santa Carla. There had just been too much going on after their move to find a new one for the boys. This whole business was giving her a headache.

"Coffee's ready, mom," Sam indicated a percolator on the kitchen counter and a mug with a few scoops of instant already prepared. This was a morning routine between them. Something Michael used to do for her.

"Thank you, Sam," Lucy sighed, filling her mug with the hot water from the percolator and feverishly stirring the grounds with a spoon she pulled out of one of the kitchen drawers. "Are your friends still asleep? You did tell them everything is fine, didn't you?" She turned back to her son, blowing at the steam that was pouring out of the top of the cup and inhaling the scent of concentrated Folgers. Some people thought instant was terrible, but she absolutely loved it.

"...Yes. Yes I did." Sam lowered his head behind the box of cereal he was holding, avoiding eye contact as he poured himself a heaping bowl of corn flakes. He just knew if she saw his guilty face, she'd know the truth. But frankly, Ed and Alan kinda deserved to suffer a little. He'd tell them the truth. Eventually.

Lucy gulped down her coffee and began to rinse out the cup, smiling as she looked out the window. "It's a lovely afternoon. You should get dad to take you to the beach. Or call your little girlfriend. I'm sure she'd like that..." She paused. "Just remember what I said about staying out too late."

"Yeah, mom. I got it," Sam bobbed his head as he set the box of cereal down and grabbed the milk carton. He didn't need to be told twice. But...were the vampires done with their prank on Ed and Alan? Would they come to the house and try to do something crazy if they weren't at the boardwalk? He frowned, pouring milk into his bowl. Not really sure if he wanted to see Mike's...friends again.

As Lucy rushed outside to head to work, Edgar trailed into the kitchen wearing Mike's old jacket.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Sam exclaimed, picking up his spoon and quirking an eyebrow.

"Just getting some practice as a creature of the night, in case we don't find the head vampire in time..." Edgar grunted, shoving Mike's old sunglasses on his face too.

"Dude, take those off. You're creeping me out," Sam frowned.

Alan peeked around the corner, squinting at his brother suspiciously. Still keeping his distance, it seemed, as Ed glided towards the kitchen table. Sam snorted. He was even walking different. How far would this joke actually go before he realized what a dumbass he was being? Sam nibbled on his lower lip, wondering how far he could actually push this joke...

"...Maybe you should get some practice sleeping. You could hang in my closet tonight, if it makes you feel better, Ed."

Alan leaned against the kitchen wall, hands clasped behind his back as he watched them both. "Last night you said you knew a way to find the head vampire...what's your plan?"

Sam blinked several times. Oh. _Right_. He had said that, hadn't he? Shit...what was he going to tell them?

Just as he was about to admit defeat and tell them the truth, inspiration struck. "Well, guys...Roxie's like a psychic, and stuff...she could probably use some magic crystals and incense and junk to help us find out. Y'know?" Granted, she wasn't a psychic at all, but she sure seemed to think she was. He'd have to call her and let her in on the joke, though. But that shouldn't be too hard. Roxie was always game for a laugh...

* * *

"Sweety! You've got a call!" Roxanne's mom shouted out to the front yard. The teenager jerked out from under her car and wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead, leaving a black smudge behind.

"Who is it, ma?" She called out, climbing to her feet and taking a work rag from her dad, who had just slammed the hood of the old Oldsmobile closed.

"It sounds like your little boyfriend, Sam!" Her mom continued to shout, high-pitched Wisconsin accent even thicker than her daughter's.

"What does he want?" Roxanne called out.

"Something about going to the beach and vampires!"

"Oh, did he wanna see that new beach vampire movie?!"

"I don't know. I didn't ask him. Are you going to come pick up the phone?"

"Yeah, just let me-"

Roxanne's dad slammed a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to yell. Go inside. Talk to your mother to her face like a normal person, then answer the phone." He looked moderately agitated, tugging on his ear.

"Oh, right, the tinnitus...sorry daddy," Roxanne snort-giggled, taking off and rushing towards the front door.

The stocky man shook his head in bewilderment as he watched her take off, not for the first time wondering how on earth he'd managed to marry into and even raise a family of harpies. Three daughters. Not one son. And all of them with voices that could call dogs from miles away. He loved Roxanne, but he truly did pity that poor Emerson boy. She was the loudest of all the girls.

* * *

Sam tucked the phone on his shoulder, gesturing for Edgar and Alan to leave the room. "She'll be able to sense if there's people in the room. We have to do a...reading over the phone...so she can sense the...uh...energy...and...look, I just need to talk to her alone, okay, guys?" If he was going to let Roxie in on the plan, he'd have to make sure Ed and Alan didn't overhear him.

"Heeeeeey, Killer," her voice crackled over the phone, causing him to flinch.

Edgar pulled down Michael's sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and exchanged a look with Alan. "If you're sure this is gonna work," he growled, "we'll go outside. How far away do we have to be so she can get a good reading?"

Unbelievable. This was _too_ easy.

"You better go for a walk. A mile or two should be good," he sighed, shaking his head. "I wish there was an easier way to do this, guys. This is going to take a lot of work...are you sure you don't want to be a shit-sucker, Ed?"

Alan glared at Sam and crossed his arms. "This isn't a joke, Sam. We'll do whatever we have to. Even if it means in the end I have to stake my brother in the most horribly excruciating way possible. We're willing to make that sacrifice. C'mon, Ed." He nodded his head towards the kitchen door, though he still stood several feet away from his brother, keeping a good distance just in case.

"...Yeah..." Edgar's eyes slid towards the window and he frowned.

"Something wrong?" Sam asked, smirking.

"What? Nothing's wrong," Roxie said over the phone, thinking he was talking to her.

"No, not you Roxie..." Sam replied, looking back towards the Frog brothers.

"I'll be fine..." Edgar straightened his sunglasses and looked around the room. His eyes fell on a dish towel, and he snatched it up to drape over his head.

"Don't want a sunburn," he explained, following Alan out of the room. Sam waited until he heard their muffled voices at the kitchen door, and then the sudden sound of rushing feet. Sounded like one of them was going towards the downstairs bathroom. Ed was probably having more stomach issues...

Sam snickered, turning his attention back to the phone. "Hey, Roxie, you want to help me play a prank on my friends?" He whispered the question, just in case they were still within earshot.

"Sounds Killer, killer. Whaddya need me to do?" He could hear her gum smacking in her mouth on the other line.

* * *

Alan followed his brother from a distance, grasping at the pencil cross he'd fashioned into a large necklace with a bit of yarn, and tucked beneath his shirt. He felt like keeping it nearby gave him the strength to be near his brother. Poor Ed. He could already see the effects of the vampire blood in his system. Of course, Sam definitely should have told them about all of the diarrhea. And the vomiting. They'd had to stop several times in their walk for Ed to rush behind a bush. And he looked like he was beginning to have trouble walking. It was probably the daylight, draining him of energy.

"Are you going to be okay?" Alan asked warily, ready to break into a run at any second if Ed lost control of himself and tried to have him as a mid-day snack.

"Yeah...I'm fine..." Ed's voice cracked. "Just real thirsty. And this headache is killing me..."

Alan gulped. "Thirsty for...for blood?" His voice quivered.

Edgar shook his head. "Don't think so..." he lowered his sunglasses, taking a quick glance at Alan's neck, licking his lips...and then quickly shaking his head. "We gotta find the head vampire soon, Alan. I don't think I can handle this much longer..."

* * *

Sam rubbed at his eyes, staring at the contents of Roxanne's trunk, and glancing at her warily.

"Roxie...why do you have so many black candles? And the monkey skull...and the rubber duck...Do I wanna know?"

Roxanne smacked her gum in her mouth, grinning and giving him a quick wink as she wordlessly slammed the trunk closed.


	4. Chapter 4: Setting Up

Author's notes: Oh gosh, 4 chapters in already. I'm just churning these fics out, aren't I? Oh, and...Devil's Rain is a real movie.

* * *

Lucy sat in her car, steeling herself for the night ahead. At first, she'd tried to push this idea away when it popped into her mind, reasoned that she'd only regret it. That she wouldn't be able to handle the reality once she was fully faced with it. But throughout the day at work, the thought kept coming back to her. She wanted to see Michael. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to confirm with her own eyes that he was doing fine, or that he really was still her baby boy despite...well, despite _that._ God, she couldn't even bring herself to say it. To say what he was.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out and grasping at her door handle. She squeezed it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Sam didn't know she'd come out here tonight. Otherwise he probably would have tried to come with her. Of course, she'd told dad over the phone during her lunch break. He hadn't seemed to put up much of a fight about it, just advised a little caution. And that was a good sign, she supposed. He knew a lot more about these vampires than he let on. That much was clear when he'd saved them from Max.

"You can do this. Just...try." She breathed the words out, sliding off of the driver's side seat and slamming the car door behind her. She'd arrived in the parking lot at 5 PM, when the sun was still up. Now it was 8, and the three hours she'd spent in her car building up her nerve still didn't relieve the shaky feeling in her knees or the tension at her temples. She knew she shouldn't be so worried, given that Sam was perfectly fine after meeting up with his brother _twice_. But then she'd remember what he looked like right before he'd attacked Max...and goodness, she remembered what Max looked like, too. They were monsters. And if...Michael was a monster now...would there really be any room left in his heart for his mother? What's more, if there was, could she still scold him for the nasty trick his friends had played on the Frog boys?

* * *

Marko stretched his arms above his head and yawned, tucking his hands behind his neck as they trailed through the crowd on the boardwalk. Summer would be over soon, so there'd be far less tourists to snack on. That was why they were all trying to get as much fun in as they could while the getting was good.

But they still hadn't decided on the game tonight. It was his turn to pick, and he was having a lot of trouble deciding. They could trail a group, get them good and drunk (so they were twice as happy before the tables got turned on them), and get a good buzz in the process. But...he was in the mood for something a little more vicious tonight. They all were. There was a sort of tense energy surrounding the group. They were wound up and ready for a bit of real fun.

"Let's pick a fight," Marko decided, cracking a grin and biting the thumb of his glove as he pulled his hands away from the back of his neck.

"Alright!" Paul gave a howl and tossed his hair, earning him a judgmental glare from a large woman in a flowered hat as she passed by. He winked and made a kissy face at her. She sputtered, placing a hand on her chest in righteous indignity and marched off.

"Fat bottom girls-" He began to sing after her, when Dwayne nudged his shoulder and shook his head.

 _"We're not taking on middle-aged cows. They're too easy,"_ he mentally whispered.

Paul shrugged, "who says I'm tryin' to make _war_ , eh?" He poked Dwayne's side, stepping away when the dark-haired vampire took a swipe at his head. He dodged away, snickering, "you don't know what you're missing out on. Sometimes you gotta broaden your horizons, ya know?" He made a lewd gesture best left to the imagination. Or well out of it.

 _"You'll bang anything, won't you?"_ Michael glanced back at him, rolling his eyes.

Paul feigned offense, _"that isn't true! I'd **never** fuck a sheep."_

 _"Yeah, cause they don't have any around here,"_ Marko snickered.

 _"So...you want a sheep for your birthday then, Paulie?"_ David raised his eyebrows, throwing an arm around Paul's shoulder.

Michael snorted and shook his head, _"I don't think any sheep deserves that kind of torture."_

Paul crossed his arms, huffing _,_ "I don't fuck sheep!" He inadvertently said this aloud, drawing even more questioning glances from a few passersby. The rest of the boys snickered. Paul could make constant jokes at the other's expenses, but didn't tend to take them too well.

" _Methinks the lady doth protest too much_ ," Dwayne contributed helpfully.

David glanced over at Michael, smirking, _"why don't you pick the first victim, Michael, while we give Paul here a little barnyard intervention?"_

Michael just shrugged and slipped away through the crowd, whistling the tune to 'Ol' Mcdonald' until he disappeared completely from sight. He was a lot more cheerful now that he'd finally gotten to see his brother without risking Sam's throat being torn out.

 _"Now, Paulie...when did you start having these unnatural feelings about wool? Was it when your mommy started touching you in bad place-OW!"_ Marko covered his bleeding nose, growling at Paul who'd landed a pretty solid punch.

* * *

"Roxie, I'm not wearing that!" Sam protested, pushing a bundle of clothes back into his girlfriend's arms. She frowned and shoved back, shaking her head.

"You said you wanted ta play a prank on 'em, so we gotta go all out!" She insisted, "...'sides...it suits ya. Makes you look all...dark and sexy," she stuck out her tongue playfully and unwrapped the bundle. It was a red hooded robe, probably from a cheap costume store.

"...You're supposed to be the psychic, aren't you? How does this even-" Roxanne pressed a finger to Sam's lips, silencing him.

"You want to scare them. So we gotta make it spooky. Ain'tcha ever seen 'The Devil's Rain'? William Shatner? Demonic devil worshipers? Awesome movie, killer! They all wore robes _just_ like this!"

Sam sighed, relenting and pulling the robe over his head, struggling to find the neck and arm holes. Roxanne helped him, tugging on the cloth until it safely fell over his shoulders.

"Plus, if ya wear this..." She knelt down to a box at her feet and pulled out a plastic skeleton max with cursive script scrawled all around it, "...it'll be easier to hide this before the big reveal. Ya get me?"

Sam blinked several times, slowly taking the mask from his girlfriend. "Be honest...You've done this kinda shit before, haven't you?"

Roxanne snort-giggled, rubbing at her nose and smacking her gum in her mouth, "a thousand times!" She pulled her sunglasses down on the bridge of her nose and winked at him. There was an almost manic excitement in her eyes.

"Roxie, how much sugar have you had tonight?"

"I resent that question," Roxanne dug into her checkered pink vest pocket and pulled out a pixie stick, tearing the top of it off with her mouth and spitting it on the ground. Somehow she managed to down the whole thing while still smacking her gum.

"So, you wanted to do this in the kitchen, right?" She looked at him, licking some of the tart candied powder from around her lips. It clung furiously to her orange lip gloss.

"That's where Sam said the energy waves would be the strongest," Edgar growled from the entrance with Alan standing a few feet behind him. They'd been walking all day.

"Dude, I said like 1 or 2 miles, where have you been?!" Sam exclaimed. He'd hate to think they decided to try and go to the cave to talk to the Lost Boys or make some kind of stupid deal to reverse the effects of the 'blood' Edgar had drunk.

"...We walked 2 miles..." Edgar coughed, covering his mouth.

"Took a lot of pit stops," Alan added, shaking his head and frowning grimly.

Sam snorted, and both of the Frog brothers glared at him. "Sam. You went through this with Michael. Vampire diarrhea is _not_ funny!" Edgar snapped.

"...Vampire... _diarrhea_?" Roxanne wrinkled her nose. Sam rubbed at his eyes and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "they think my brother and his friends are vampires, Roxie. Remember?"

Roxanne whispered back into Sam's ear, "that's silly. There's no such thing as alien bodysnatching vampires. Your friends need some _serious_ help. Mondo weird..."

Sam gave her an odd look, then quickly shook his head and pretended she hadn't said anything. It was usually easier that way. One delusional problem at a time. He took a deep breath and put on his best creepy smile, directing it at Edgar and Alan.

"Are you ready?"

Alan frowned, for the first time seeming to take in what Sam was wearing. "...I'm seeing a whole new side to you right now, Sam, and it's scaring me."


	5. Chapter 5: Black Candles

Michael's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the perfect mark.

" _Too fat...too thin...too old_..." And then...bingo. Not twenty feet away, he spotted her. Trashy, teased black hair, lipstick thick enough to caulk a window seal, and from what he could recall...the arm candy of more than one surf nazi. The question was, though, were any of them close enough to notice if he made a pass at her? From what he could tell, her body language implied they just might be. She was standing outside of a tattoo parlor impatiently tapping her feet and glancing at her wrist watch every few seconds or so, then casting an angry look back towards the building as if she were expecting someone to leave any minute.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he strolled over towards the parlor and smiled, "waiting for someone?" He asked, leaning up against the storefront window beside her, so that anyone inside could get a good look at them together.

Her face snapped towards him, and she gave Michael a once-over. Slowly, her frown melted into an equally flirtatious smile. Michael still hadn't really mastered the art of trying to read people's minds, but he had an inkling she had a similar plan in mind as his. Let whoever she was waiting for inside see them together, and they'd come barreling out in no time to deal with him.

"You're with those biker guys, aren't you? Saw you with them a couple nights ago when they came back to town. I think they call themselves 'The Lost Boys'?" She asked, leaning up against she shop window beside him and tossing her hair back.

Michael shrugged, "sometimes. Sometimes I'm not. Like right now," he subtly inched a little closer to her, pulling his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. She didn't seem to mind too much. But he highly doubted her interest was entirely focused on him. When her eyes darted quickly behind her to look through the window, his suspicions were only confirmed.

"Do you work out?" She reached up to twirl a finger through one of her teased locks and shifted so that she was facing him, the side of her hip pressed against the window. Michael mirrored her action, putting an arm up above his head against the window so he could lean in a little closer, grinning all the while.

"Yeah. A little. Used to play a lot of baseball too," he wasn't lying. He actually kind of resented the fact that there weren't any local night games around, and the rest of the boys didn't ever seem to want to do any batting practice. But he had other things on his mind right now than baseball.

"I bet you get to third base a lot," she flirted, thrusting her chest out. She didn't really have much to show off, but the gesture was enough on it's own to get a message across.

 _Wow_...she was trashier than he thought. Either that, or really really impatient.

Michael leaned closer until his face was only a few inches away from hers, "you oughta see my score sheet." And finally, that seemed to do the trick. No sooner had he said this, than the front door of the parlor was slammed open, and a musclebound skin-head sans shirt with a half-inked rhinoceros on his bicep came barreling out. Michael stepped back from the window and the girl, who unsurprisingly seemed to have lost complete interest in him, and what's more...even had the nerve to pretend she was highly offended at his attention.

"Hey, nice ink. That your mommy?" Michael inquired, pointing at the rhinoceros.

"Freddy," the girl pouted, pointing a long red fingernail straight at Michael, "he tried to feel me up!"

And if there had been any sense of guilt buried within Michael, even a smidgen of humanity or morals about picking and choosing the people he killed, that last line she threw out would have completely crushed it. Even as he thought this, Freddy the skinhead dashed forward and swung a brutal punch across Michael's face. He stumbled back, rubbing at his jaw and then smirking at his attacker, blood dripping from his mouth.

"That the best you got, dick-head?" Michael taunted, diving forward and pulling the guy into a headlock. The taste of his own blood in his mouth was driving him wild, but he had enough self-control to keep his face smooth and human. It wouldn't be a good idea to reveal his true nature on the boardwalk with such a big audience.

Freddy struggled in Michael's grasp, pulling his knee up and delivering a solid kick to the brunette's shin, causing him to loosen his grip just enough for his victim to pull out of it.

 _"Son of a bitch..."_ Michael mentally cursed, stepping to the side when the guy tried to dive forward and knock him to the ground, ultimately only ending up on his own ass with Michael smirking down at him. But Freddy didn't fight fair, and neither did his girlfriend. Maybe if Michael had been paying more attention to his surroundings, he might have noticed the other two Surf Nazis running out of the parlor and heading straight for him.

By now, David and the others had arrived on the scene, and simply stood amid a forming crowd, enjoying the show. If Michael needed their help, he'd ask for it.

* * *

Grandpa Emerson stepped into the kitchen with Nanook at his side, took one look at the group of teenagers at the table, grabbed a root beer from the fridge, and quickly left the room. He felt it was best just...not to ask questions. "Clean up when you're done in here," he grumbled as he walked away.

And he was perfectly within his rights to be a little...surprised. Black candles in various states of being melted were lined up along the kitchen counters, a monkey skull sat in the very middle of the table with another candle on top of it, the wax dripping into it's eye sockets, and all four of the teenagers were wearing dark red robes with the hoods drawn up over their heads. And finally, a small stereo sat in the kitchen sink playing Gregorian chants, though the tape had been warped enough to make the voices much deeper.

"You girls ready?" Roxanne smacked her gum a few times for good measure. She placed her hands on the table in front of her and shifted in her seat.

"What do we have to do?" Edgar growled, scratching at his back. The robe had to have some wool in it, because he felt like he was getting a rash. He hoped that didn't mess with the 'energy' or whatever Sam and Roxanne kept talking about. He was still a little confused why he had to keep a rubber duck in his underwear, though. If he didn't know better, he'd think this was all some sort of elaborate joke.

"Ya gotta put your hands on the table so that your thumbs are touchin', right? Then ya gotta make sure your pinkies are touching whoever you're sittin' by," she paused, "so the energy distributes good and stuff, ya know?"

Sam shifted in his chair, blinking several times. The smoke from the candle on the monkey skull was giving him a headache. It was like it was seeking him out, wafting up into the air and straight for his nose. "Roxie, where did you get these-"

"I AM NOW GOING TO SPEAK WITH THE COSMIC ETHER!" Roxanne intoned, ignoring Sam's question. She slammed her head forward on the table and began to shake in her chair. Sam squinted at her and frowned nervously, she was...really getting into this.

"Llamma llamma llamma llamma..." Roxanne whispered, continuing to twitch and shake. The motion was jerking the monkey skull on the table, and the candle quivered slightly on top of it. Sam was prepared to jump up at any second and grab it. The dramatics Roxie acted out were almost too much. His face was turning red just trying to hold in his laughter.

Alan squeaked nervously, almost yanking his hands away from the table.

 _Okay, Roxie...dial it back..._ Sam thought to himself, shaking his head and snorting. While all this was going on, his headache seemed to be getting worse. Like something was banging around inside his skull trying to break free.

Edgar leaned down, whispering into his brother's ear, _"Alan, maybe there's some other way to find out who the head vampire is..."_

 _"Maybe you should've thought of that before she put the cosmic ether on speed dial!"_ Alan snapped back at him.

"This is too freaky. I can't do this," Edgar growled, standing up from the table and tearing his hands away.

Roxanne slammed her head back, eyes milky white and glowing beneath her hood, " **DON'T BREAK THE CIRCLE**!" She shouted, and suddenly the flame of the candle on their table suddenly died.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Sam squeaked, pulling his hands away as well. This was _not_ part of the prank!

Reaching up to pull her hood down, Roxanne looked considerably paler. She turned towards Sam, her lip twitching. "Killer, please tell me you burned the sage I gave ya."

"What the hell does that have to do with this?!" Sam yelped, drawing his knees up to his chest on the chair and wrapping his arms around himself. At least the headache was gone.

"...Sage?" Alan looked back and forth between Roxanne and Sam, drawing the hood of his robe down. "The fuck is going on here?!" His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

Edgar pressed his hands to the sides of his head, whimpering, "am I gonna be stuck as a bloodsucker?!"

Roxanne's eyes darted nervously about the room. "Stuff is about to get super freaky in here..."


	6. Chapter 6: Lights Out

Author's notes: Wrote the other chapter this morning. Didn't realize I'd be writing more tonight. So...yay, 2 chapters in one day? With Lucy, I'm referring to one of the deleted scenes in the LB film. Essentially I described it, so there's not much else to say. If you haven't seen them, you can catch great quality copies of all the cut scenes on youtube. Definitely worth checking out.

* * *

As she scanned the boardwalk, Lucy realized she had little chance of finding her son. She didn't even know where to begin. Vaguely, she recalled the boys he should be with. Had seen them at Max's shop. Had even been teased by them not long after, when they'd circled her with their bikes and taunted her as if they planned on doing something absolutely awful. She wondered momentarily whether they might have, if Max hadn't taken a liking to her. But she didn't want to think about them. She only wanted to think about her son...

"Oh my goodness," Lucy drew to a stop, halted by a large huddle of people crowding around some sort of spectacle. Had someone gotten into an accident?

"Excuse me," she tapped gently on a young woman's shoulder. The girl was tall, just enough to get a better vantage point of whatever the crowd was watching. She turned towards Lucy with a questioning look.

"What is everyone standing around here for? Did someone get hurt?" She asked, concern written all over her face.

"Oh, someone's about to. Two guys got laid out, real nasty-looking too. There's some kinda gang member taking them on all at once. It's wild!" She exclaimed, bubbly and excited. It was something to do, when there wasn't a concert to keep the tourists entertained.

"Oh dear," Lucy frowned, nibbling at her bottom lip and crossing her arms as if she were trying to protect herself from what she suspected she was about to learn. "Do you...do you know what the boy looks like?" She asked, wondering if perhaps it was one of Michael's friends. From what little she'd seen of them, they seemed like the sort. Not to mention the fact that they killed people on a regular basis, she realized.

"Um..." The young woman craned her head, standing on the tips of her toes. "Can't really see much from here. He's kinda bloody...curly hair, dark..."

Lucy gasped, diving into the huddled crowd and getting quite a few surprised (even angry) exclamations for her troubles as she navigated through a jungle of human bodies, body odor and smoke mingling together to make the experience quite an unpleasant one. She may be tiny. She may be middle-aged. But she was a mother, and she _needed_ to know for her own peace of mind that Michael wasn't starting fights with complete strangers!

"Watch it, lady!"

"I'm sorry," Lucy apologized, nudging one bulky man aside with a sharp poke to the ribs. Her sweet voice and sweeter face threw him off guard, compared to her somewhat forceful body language, but he stepped aside when he looked down at her and let her pass.

It seemed like she was never going to get through to the center of this human flesh maze. And it was getting to the point that drawing breath was nearly impossible, as people were crowding in even tighter against each other. But finally, in one swift push, she stumbled into an open space.

"Oh my lord," she pressed a hand to her chest and stood up, breathing deep. This gave her just enough time to regain her senses, and catch a good eyeful of her oldest son holding a man twice his size by the neck and strangling him.

"MICHAEL EMERSON! YOU LET HIM GO, _RIGHT THIS INSTANT_!" She shouted, for a split second almost forgetting that her son was no longer the sweet-natured teenager he used to be, but a cold-blooded killer. And it would seem, so did he, because he immediately released his grip and spun around to face her.

"Mom?!" Michael blurted out, distracted just long enough for someone to step up behind him and break a wooden chair over his head. Somewhat dazed, he held his hands to the back of his skull and grunted. Lucy flinched, striding forward to pull him into her arms, despite the obvious danger she might be putting herself in. Possibly from Michael. Most likely from the men he was fighting.

"Oh, my baby!" Lucy gasped out, pressing her face into his chest and sobbing. "What are you doing out here?!" She demanded, pushing away and looking up at his face. He didn't look at her like she was a meal. Nor like he didn't care about her anymore. He looked like he was ten years old again, and just got caught sneaking into her closet to find his Christmas presents. Granted, a somewhat bloodied ten-year-old.

And that was when a gloved hand patted him on the shoulder, and Marko peeked over from behind him to wink at Lucy.

"Hey little mama, I'm gonna go ahead and tap him out for ya." He spun about and dove into the fight, leaping at the man with the offending broken chair pieces in his hands. Michael glanced back to where the other boys stood at the edge of the crowd, and frowned.

 _"You about to make me tell her to go away?"_ He demanded from David, a little more heat in his thoughts than he'd meant to let out.

David shrugged, spreading his arms, _"take your time. Just remember who you're coming home to, tonight. Don't take too long, though."_ His final sentence contradicted the first, but the message was pretty clear. Lucy was safe. And Michael had a little more freedom with his family now. He was astonished, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. David ran hot and cold, yet he'd been getting a bit less controlling, with Dwayne and Paul back, initial fighting thanks to Star's angry spirit aside.

"Michael?" Lucy repeated his name, pressing a hand to his cheek and smoothing his curls back, "I thought we agreed you'd cut your hair when school started last year?" She joked, sobbing a little. Michael shrugged and pulled his mother into his arms.

"Yeah...sorry about that. Guess I let you down, didn't I?" He whispered, taking her hand in his and pulling her away from the fight. He didn't doubt Marko was going to finish what he started, but he also didn't want her getting hurt in the crossfire. He also didn't want David to suddenly decide to play the asshole card and tell him he couldn't talk to her anymore after all.

"You picked a real good time to come looking for me," he remarked, pulling her close enough against his shoulder that he could nudge his way through the crowd without her being jostled too much. They were thankfully given a pretty wide berth. If anyone doubted he was one of 'The Lost Boys', that fight just now had properly cemented it.

Lucy tried to laugh, the sound light and fluting, on the verge of crying at any second. "You picked a good time to start a fight. I thought I raised you better than that."

"..." Michael paused. "It started with the hair. From then on, I went on a downward spiral. I eat grapes at the supermarket without paying for them now, too, mom. I'm a monster."

That got a genuine laugh out of her, and she clung tighter to her son, afraid to let him go. "I don't want this to be the last time I ever see you."

* * *

Grandpa Emerson lowered his magnifying glass and slowly glanced down towards Nanook, who rested at his feet. He was Sam's dog, but that didn't mean he didn't sometimes enjoy spending time with the old man. Especially with the Frog boys around. They stressed the poor animal out, for some reason. Probably because he was sensing Sam's own emotions. And who wouldn't be stressed, dealing with two kids like them? Teenagers who practically boasted about their love of vampire slaying, as if they actively _wanted_ to deal with having to wear neck braces every night and keep holy water cocktails at hand constantly.

The old man sighed, leaning down to rub his hand through Nanook's pelt, giving him a good few pats. The husky was beginning to whine and bark at the door.

"Something wrong out there, eh?" He grunted, sitting back up and placing his hands on his knees.

"Tell ya what, I'll let you out there to go deal with whatever it is that's bothering you, if you promise me you'll keep them from tearing up the house tonight."

He still hadn't forgotten all of the plumbing damage, the tiles he'd had to replace, or the dozens and dozens of other issues they were still having in the house thanks to their little party with those vampires last summer. Frankly, his heart couldn't take another reconstruction job like that one. The bathroom still reeked of death whenever it rained. Maybe Lucy and Sam couldn't smell it, but _he_ sure could. And having heard the story from Sam multiple times, the way he saw it...even though their hearts _may_ have been in the right place, the fact remained that they hadn't really saved Michael at all. And he was the one who'd really done the dirty work in dealing with his daughter's boyfriend. He would have taken care of it sooner or later on his own without those other damned vampires swinging by and tearing up the place.

* * *

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Okay, something really bad was about to happen. The prank had gone south. Roxanne was being cryptic without any real explanation, which really wasn't too terribly out of the ordinary, and Edgar was beginning to get on his nerves. Once he'd decided he was going to become the next winner of the Miss Nosferatu Pageant, he'd rushed to the corner of the kitchen to cower and hiss at Alan, who'd pulled out his pencil cross and squeezed it tightly to his chest to protect himself.

But...hey, at least the headache was gone, he realized. Probably because that gross smoke wasn't blowing into his face anymore.

"Alan, you're not turning into a vampire. You didn't drink blood in the cave. Now stop acting like a dumbass," Sam sighed standing up and heading towards the kitchen door to flip on the light switch.

Edgar stopped clawing at the air mid-hiss, and slowly turned to look back and forth between Roxanne and Sam. "...If...if I'm not...then...and it wasn't..." He sputtered, trying to regain his composure.

"Are you sure?" Alan squeezed the cross tighter, frowning. "Cause I could swear whatever came out of him back in that field smelled like death."

Roxanne clasped her hands together on the kitchen table and smiled weakly. "Okay, prank's over, Killer...glad we got that taken care of. But we gotta fix this other problem before-"

...the kitchen lights began to flash and fizzle, then one-by-one the bulbs exploded in their sockets, and...the candle on the kitchen table re-lit itself.

"Oh man, oh man, oh man...this is bad. This is real bad...mondo super _mega_ bad!" Roxanne ran her hands through her hot pink crew cut, squeezing her head tightly. Edgar, Alan, and Sam joined together in a loud scream, as the monkey skull with the candle began to chatter and wail on the kitchen table.

"Keep it down in there!" Grandpa Emerson shouted from his workshop, as Nanook came tearing into the kitchen, howling and snapping his jaws at something unseen near the kitchen table. Not that any of the teenagers could see him too clearly, with nothing but candles to light the room.


	7. Chapter 7: Opening Doors

Marko spat a tooth into his hand and swished a bit of blood dripping from the damaged nerves it had been torn from in the fight. He'd grow another after feeding later, but it still felt weird poking the empty spot with the tip of his tongue. He'd managed to knock the last guy out with ease, and there were about four men in all lying unconscious in front of the tattoo parlor. Their girlfriend stood in shock and fear, gazing down at the state of them, and then looking back up at Marko with quivering lips. He grinned back at her and mouthed the words 'you're next, sweety', before spinning about with his arms held out wide to take Paul under one arm and Dwayne under another when they approached him.

"Have fun?" David asked, smirking as he poked at the largest Surf Nazi with the tip of a boot. There was little chance he'd be recovering in time to catch some waves in the morning. Or within the next week, for that matter. Still, none of them were dead. That was a little more attention than any of the Lost Boys wanted, at least not when they had dozens of witnesses. It would create more trouble than it was worth. No, they'd track down these guys later and chow down when there were less eyes on them. Marko and Michael had just tenderized the meals, so to speak.

"Not much of a challenge, but did you see the fat one scream? Made my night!" Marko snickered, walking away with his arms still wrapped around Dwayne and Paul's shoulders.

 _"You should have taken a few punches. You made it look too easy,"_ Dwayne mentally chided, deflating Marko's joy in absolutely no way.

 _"Didn't know you could actually pop them. Definitely think I heard a pop when you punched that other one in the crotch,"_ Paul added with a half-smirk, glancing back over his shoulder to eye the only unconscious man with his legs drawn up to his chest in a fetal position.

 _"So, you really letting Mikey play tea party with his Mommy tonight? Sure that's a good idea? He might just decide to run off,"_ Marko directed his attention towards David, who stood a few feet away, un-moving even as the crowd dispersed now that there was nothing left to watch. The blonde leader of the gang simply shrugged, a vicious grin forming on his face.

 _"I didn't say I wasn't going to keep an eye on him. If he gets any ideas, I'll drag him back, kicking and screaming. Let's go, boys,"_ he spun on his heels and took off in the direction Michael and Lucy had gone.

Paul snorted, _"Want me to teach wifey a lesson for you if he tries?"_

 _"Dwayne, punch Paul for me,"_ David drawled. He didn't have to turn around to see if his order was followed. The quick thumping sound and high-pitched yelp told him all he needed to know.

* * *

The monkey skull had stopped wailing. The boys had stopped screaming. Nanook was no longer freaking out quite so much, though now he was whining and nuzzling up against Sam's leg. Roxie had stopped talking, busying herself now with digging through a cardboard box beneath the table. But the Gregorian chants on the radio in the sink were still droning on, and that was enough to maintain the creepy atmosphere in the kitchen.

Sam took a deep breath and knelt down to comfort his dog, "it's gonna be okay, boy. I think...I think whatever it is that just happened...I think it's over," he said this more to comfort himself than the animal. Alan quickly rushed over to the sink, stumbling in the process and mis-judging where the counter was, banging his knee against a cupboard door. "SHIT!" He cursed, pulling his knee up to his chest with one hand and desperately feeling around with his other until he finally found the radio in the sink, and firmly pressed stop on the tape.

"Why?" Edgar grunted, glaring through the dark at Sam's silhouette.

"Why what?" Sam looked up at him wearily, not really sorry about their failed prank for any other reason than the fact that it had gone terribly wrong.

"Why did you let me think I was turning?! What kind of friend does that shit, Sam?"

"I guess the same kind of friend that throws you under the bus the minute you're confronted by a pack of vampires," Sam replied quietly, standing up and crossing his arms. "You're lucky I didn't have mom throw you both out on your asses when we got back from that cave."

Edgar frowned, trying to think of something to say. Some kind of noble explanation for what they'd done...but...damn, the dork kind of made a good point.

"So, if he wasn't turning...and he didn't drink vampire blood..." Alan leaned against the kitchen counter, still tenderly rubbing his knee and breathing deeply to calm himself. "Then what _did_ he drink?"

"Rotten Clamato. Like I said when you drank it. You guys sure are thickos," Roxie snort-giggled, pulling a large leather-bound book from her cardboard box and slamming it on the table. She squinted over at Sam and smirked, "and you got your moments too, Killer." She leaned forward to yank the black candle from the top of the monkey's skull and held it close to her book for illumination, flipping open the cover and and scanning the index.

"Okay, now that we've kissed and made up," Edgar grunted, "what just happened?"

"Oh. Yeah...Um...like..." Roxie mumbled absent-mindedly, flipping through the pages. "So there's like...fun stuff you can do at parties with like...all these candles, and a bit of chicken blood...I do it at the church bake sales, usually. Raise money for charity, right?" She popped her gum, seeming to have calmed down a bit now that she was comfortably digging through her book and there wasn't a wailing monkey skull to distract her anymore.

Sam took a deep breath and edged towards the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He just knew he was going to have to be sitting for this, especially because he was about to actually ask her a question he didn't think he wanted to know the answer to. "So... _what. Did. You Do. **Roxie**_?"

Roxanne took a deep breath, smacking her gum and leaning forward. "Sam, you think you can make me some tea? Or...you got a coke in the fridge?"

" _Roxie_."

"Alright, alright, alright...so you know how I get these mondo bad vibes, sometimes?"

Sam nodded, leaning towards the candle in Roxanne's hand so she could see his face. "Yeah?"

"And you remember the sage?"

"...Yeah."

"And like...you know how sometimes when people play with like things they don't really understand, but are totally awesome...like electricity, artificial intelligence, and metaphorical boxes with bad mojo and hope locked inside them?"

"Jesus Christ, woman, get to the point!" Alan demanded from across the kitchen, slowly stepping forward and feeling around him to make sure he didn't stumble into anything else.

Roxie sighed, rolling her eyes. Some people just didn't understand dramatic build-up. No patience, whatsoever. "So there's these spells in this book I use to make stuff hover, but they only really work good if there isn't something bad around. And there's something freaky bad here, cause it followed Killer back from the cave we went to last night, and he didn't burn the sage like I told him...so really, if you think about it. It'snotmyfaultatall." Her last sentence was breathed out as if it were one word.

"So you're saying this is my fault?!" Sam angrily exclaimed, almost shocked that his girlfriend was the one trying to throw him under a bus this time.

"No. No. I didn't say that. I just think...maybe...you shoulda burned the sage." Roxanne glanced down at her book. "But I think as long as like...no one ever died here, we should probably be able to fix this. Cause if someone died here...oh man, we'd have a whole lotta other problems to worry about."

Edgar, Alan, and even Sam tried to exchange nervous glances just then. But it was a little difficult when they could barely see each other. Still, the sentiment was understood. Things had just gone from bad to worse. Much worse.

Nanook whined and backed away from the kitchen table, grimacing and showing his teeth at something unseen.

* * *

Star, a shapeless shadow beneath the kitchen table mused quietly to herself. She wasn't happy to have been forced from Sam's body by that funky-smelling candle. But...she also wasn't too upset that she didn't feel herself being pulled back to the cave either. She was getting stronger. The little trick she'd pulled with the lights and monkey skull were just a little test to see what she could do. And now she realized with more than a little dark glee, perhaps being a ghost could be fun. And once she finished with everyone in the house, maybe she'd be strong enough to return to the cave and do something even nastier to the Lost Boys. At the moment, she didn't really care who she tortured. But she needed _someone_ to take her anger out on. She might as well do it with whoever was at hand. After all, what better way to hurt Michael for what he'd done to her, than to start with his family?

 _"Lovely to see you again, Star. Though I didn't really have much pleasure beyond hearing about you from my boys. Care for some company?"_ Star slipped out from beneath the table as a trailing shadow and searched about for the source of the strange voice...and then she saw his silhouette in the doorway. Pulling herself together, she formed her own silhouette, unseen by the humans focusing on their own problems near the kitchen table.

 _"They're mine!"_ Star growled, unaware just how animalistic she sounded.

Max's laughter echoed throughout the house, and Grandpa Emerson jerked up in his seat at his workshop table, scowling.

* * *

Author's notes: Oh snap. Did I just go there? Yes. Yes I did.


	8. Chapter 8: Frog-Mouth

Author's notes: What? Like Michael is ever going to learn when to keep his mouth shut? I seriously doubt it.

* * *

Lucy craned her head over the side of the stall to glance at all the many containers of toppings and sauces. The hot dog vendor held a plain dog in his hand while he waited for her to decide.

"Let me see, I'll have...onions...no, make that sauerkraut. Michael, do you still like sauerkraut?" She looked over at her taller son, who nodded, smirking. He didn't really need to eat, but there wasn't a good reason to bring the topic up. If his mom wanted to buy him a hot dog, let her buy him one.

"You're eating well, aren't you?" She asked, after paying for both of their meals and handing one to Michael. He took it from her and shrugged.

"Yeah, mom. I'm eating well." _But you probably don't want to hear about my liquid diet..._

After taking a small bite of her hot dog, she reached up with her free hand to smooth back his curls. It was a habit of a lifetime, and hadn't gone away even a year apart from each other. He might have pushed her hand away, but it was comforting to feel his mom preening over him again. Almost made him feel normal.

"You know, Star was staying with us for awhile after you left," Lucy said between tiny bites. She didn't really want to bring this topic up. But she suspected Michael might want to know about the girl he had apparently been dating. That was what she'd gathered from the girl's fondness for him, at any rate. And the fact that they'd tried to sleep together in the remnants of his bed before he went missing.

Michael held back a frown. He couldn't tell her what he'd done to Star. Didn't really want Lucy to know the extent of a monster he'd really become. If it came right down to it, and she asked about his blood-drinking habits...he'd lie about that too.

"Did she leave?" He asked curiously, putting on his best impression of innocence he could muster. A year of murder and bloodshed had dulled his ability, somewhat, but he managed it well enough.

"You know, she actually did, a few days ago. But she left all of her things...so I don't know if she's gone to visit her family, or..." Lucy licked a bit of mustard from her lip "...Michael...did you and your friends...run into her?" Meaning 'did you kill her?' He could see the veiled fear behind his mother's eyes, threatening to shatter the illusion of their happy reunion if he said the wrong thing.

"Uh...no, I didn't." He paused. "But I think I might have seen her a few days ago at the bus station. You're probably right. She might've gone to see her parents."

"Oh. Well...why didn't you talk to her, then?"

... _Shit. Shit. Shit_. "I didn't catch her in time. She was already getting on the bus when I tried to catch up with her." Okay...close one.

"Hang on a minute, there's something I need to do..." Lucy looked down at her shoulder purse and used her free hand to dig inside until she found a small handkerchief. Licking at it, she reached up to scrub at one of Michael's cheeks.

"Mom!" He tried to push her hand away.

"You're a mess! I just want to get this spot off..." Lucy insisted, using ninja-like mother skills to avoid his batting hand until she'd finally gotten the bit of dirt off of his cheek that had been bothering her since they started talking. He'd already wiped off his blood from the fight.

"There, was that so bad?" She asked sweetly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek in the same (somewhat reddened) spot she'd scrubbed.

"Yeah, I want lots of relish," a familiar soft voice told the hot dog vendor, and Michael looked up to spot David standing nearby, the rest of the boys standing not far off with their arms crossed. He narrowed his eyes and looked back at his mother, putting an arm around her shoulder and taking a vicious bite of his hot dog.

"Michael, what are you doing?" Lucy protested as they began to walk, his hand digging into her shoulder just a little firmer than he meant.

"Let's go window shopping," he suggested quietly. He should've known any semblance of privacy he was going to get was just an illusion.

"Are you feeling okay? You hate window shopping!" Lucy reached up to feel his forehead, and paled slightly when she felt nothing but cold flesh against the back of her hand. Another tiny reminder that he wasn't the same boy he used to be.

"Mom?" Michael took her hand in his and lowered it, nervously meeting her gaze. The last thing he wanted right now was to scare her.

"N...it's nothing," she smiled weakly, taking another bite of her hot dog. "Are you dating anyone new, now?" She asked, not really considering the question so much as throwing out something normal to talk about. Something not related to his disturbingly low body temperature.

" _No_." Michael said it loud enough for anyone listening to hear, and chanced a look back at David, who was innocently chowing down on his own hot dog while Paul and Marko fought over who was going to order next. Marko dug his hand into Paul's face and shoved him back while he breathed out his order to the vendor.

"I see. It must be hard meeting girls..."

"...Yeah. Real hard." Michael spat out, finishing up the remnants of his hot dog and crumpling the foil in his hand.

"Maybe it's for the best," Lucy sighed, looking down at her own hot dog and suddenly realizing she wasn't very hungry anymore.

"Michael?" David called out from behind them, striding towards Michael and Lucy with a wide grin plastered on his face. "Michael, is this your mom?" He inquired, lowering his hot dog and looking at Lucy up and down. As if he was about to eat her...

 _"Don't you fucking dare,"_ Michael mentally growled.

 _"Relax, Mikey, we're all family here,"_ David's slick reply.

"Oh. You...you're the boy..." Lucy's eyes widened, and she pulled Michael's arm a little closer, recognizing him immediately as not only the leader of the group who'd harassed her, but the same boy she'd come home to see lying dead on her father's antler project. This was the vampire who took her son away from her...

"Let's just put all that behind us," David suggested, taking a large bite of his hot dog and maintaining his smile even as he chewed.

Lucy began to tremble, and Michael eased her behind him to shield his mother from David's sick sense of humor. "Did you want something, David?" He ground out, very close to losing his temper.

 _"You fucking asshole, you said I could talk to her!"_ Michael hissed in his mind _._

 _"I never said I wasn't going to follow you,"_ David replied, looking over at Lucy and craning his head. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Emerson. Don't worry, I'm not going to bite. I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear you both talking. You asked if he was dating anyone, is that right?"

Lucy frowned, slowly nodding. She didn't know exactly what she could do other than try her best not to scream and run away. She loved her son and trusted him enough to let her know when she should leave. And he did look agitated, but not scared. So...maybe she was safe, for now.

"And Mike...you said you weren't?" He asked sweetly, looking back at his childe, who was glaring at him right now as if he could kill him with a blink.

 _"Easy there, you don't want me to think you're challenging me, do you?"_ David mentally inquired, licking his lips.

"Yes. I'm. _Very_. Single." Michael ground out, looking back at his mother. She looked absolutely terrified, but he admired that she was still sticking around to see this conversation play out.

"I bet your girlfriend wouldn't like to hear that," David replied smoothly, taking another bite of his hot dog.

"She's not my girlfriend. She's just a crazy bitch who doesn't know when to give me some god damned space." Michael snapped back, and Lucy squeezed his shoulder.

"Michael! Language!" She scolded. "Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend? Is it because she's...she's like you?" She inquired with a quivering voice.

 _"Watch it, Michael,"_ David mentally hissed.

Not far behind David, Paul and Marko had each other in head locks, while Dwayne held the hot dog in question they were fighting over. Clearly, they weren't paying too much attention to this exchange.

"Sorry, mom," Michael apologized, forcing himself to relax a little. He really didn't want to scare her, and he knew if he let his anger get the best of him right now, he was definitely going to. When he was human, his temper had been somewhat slow-burning but strong. Nowadays he wasn't sure if it was being a vampire, or just dealing with David that just made him want to snap all of the time. Whatever it was, Lucy didn't need to see that side of him.

"She's a lot like Michael, actually. But nowhere near as lovely as you, Ms. Emerson," David purred. And Lucy didn't know whether to take that as a compliment, or become severely concerned at the attention.

"She's a cow," Michael added. "The size of a barn."

David raised his eyebrows, "I think she's in great shape. She's never heard you complain, anyway."

"Maybe she's too full of herself to notice. She's got a big mouth, too."

"...A big mouth? As big as yours?"

"Twice as big! She's a fat frog with a huge mouth!"

By now Michael had stopped holding onto his mother, and he and David were giving each other death glares, very much on the verge of getting into a full-out fist fight on the boardwalk. For her part, Lucy was getting very concerned both about Michael's abuses of his girlfriend, and the fact that David was defending her so vehemently. Were they...were they sharing her? She certainly hoped that wasn't the case.

"First she's a cow, now she's a fat frog?!" David snapped back, now no longer even trying to fake his charm for Lucy's sake. That was when Dwayne approached her with hot dog in hand. Marko and Paul were sitting on the ground now, fully focused on David and Michael with gleeful expressions.

"Would you like to go for a walk until they calm down, Ms. Emerson?" Dwayne inquired politely. He wasn't much for talking, but he also didn't want to deal with the headache if somehow David or Michael ended up hurting the tiny woman during their fight. He was fairly sure Michael wouldn't let that one go.

 _"You just wait until we get home,"_ David threatened.

 _"Bring it, frog-face!"_ Michael replied, now far past caring whether what he was saying made sense or not. Or even the fact that he was in for a very bad night after they went hunting. His temper, as usual, got the best of him.

Marko leaned towards Paul, eyes still trained on Michael and David, and whispered "they're such a cute couple."


	9. Chapter 9: Tempers Rising

Author's notes: What kind of parents let their teenage daughter spend the night with her boyfriend? I guess the same kind that would raise a psycho like Roxie. On a side-note, I really do need to start just...waiting to post chapters until I'm absolutely sure I won't do any more writing for the day.

* * *

Grandpa Emerson climbed down from his stepping stool, dropping the last broken light bulb into a small trashcan beside the kitchen table. He wasn't happy. The kitchen was a mess. The screaming teenagers had given him a headache. He'd have to buy more replacement bulbs in the morning, because these were the last of them. What's more, Sam's little girlfriend had gotten black candle wax all over the counters.

"I meant what I said when I told you to clean this place up before you go to bed," he grunted, closing the stepping ladder and walking over to tuck it behind the refrigerator. He glanced back towards the Frog boys with a very firm frown on his face, "and tomorrow, you're gonna wax and clean my lazyboy. You left scuff marks and mud all over it."

As the old man lumbered out of the room, grumbling, he paused at the doorway. "And Sam, if your girly over there is staying the night, tell her the house rules."

Roxanne looked up from her book and directly at Sam with a wide smile on her face. "...We'll sleep in the living room, I guess. You can take the bed, Roxie." Sam ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his head. "You'll probably wanna call your parents, though..."

"Already told 'em," Roxanne chirped, looking back down at her book. "Okay, so, we're gonna need to get some like...bricks and chalk tomorrow..." She pulled out a piece of paper tucked into the back of the book and dug around in her box for a pen to take down notes. Sam frowned. They were going to have a serious talk about their relationship after this. And boundaries. And what she was and was not allowed to summon within the confines of his grandpa's house.

"So..." Edgar cleared his throat as he scratched at a chunk of wax on the kitchen counter, trying to chisel up enough to remove the candle. "...After this, anyone wanna play Monopoly?"

"Sounds good to me," Alan agreed.

"Oh! I wanna be the top hat!" Roxanne cheered, clapping her hands together. Her ability to focus on any one thing at a time was clearly very limited.

Sam shrugged, deciding for once to just stop thinking and let it happen. He was tired of stressing out, just because his friends (and girlfriend) were all nutjobs. At least they kept things interesting. And it wasn't like whatever kind of 'door' or whatever that they'd just opened tonight wasn't going to be open tomorrow to deal with anyway. "Okay, that's fine...but I get the steamboat. Nobody else touches my steamboat."

And hey, at least the monkey skull wasn't screaming anymore. Though he did look at it once or twice to make sure it wasn't about to start up again. One thing was for sure before they all went to bed. That thing was going in a trash bag, in the trash can, and outside far away from the house. Possibly buried, depending how long it took to clean up and whether their Monopoly game ran into overtime.

Nanook padded out of the room, watching something none of the humans in the room seemed to notice. Trailing blank fingers of shadow, sinking into the hallway walls.

* * *

 _"Now, now, there's no reason to be so territorial. There's plenty of room in the house for two of us. What's more, I'd say I'm a lot more experienced than you are, wouldn't you agree?"_ Max's voice echoed, light and airy to the human ear, like the whisper of a running fan. But Nanook heard him well enough, and the dog kept his eyes trained on both shadows all the while as they slipped along the walls together.

 _"They're. Mine."_ Star insisted stubbornly, keeping her distance from him. Even dead, he was quite powerful. She could sense it. It was like everything he lingered around became darker and weaker, just by being in his very presence.

 _"My dear, think about everything you've been through this past year. Did you really know Michael long enough to love him so desperately that you'd take your own life?"_ He inquired. _"What's more, why is it that after your death...you feel nothing but hatred towards him and everyone he loves? Can you answer me that?"_

 _"He trapped me here!"_ She insisted, growing more and more agitated by the second. A picture frame she drifted by shifted and fell from the wall with a loud crash.

"Oh, what now?!" Sam Exclaimed from the kitchen.

If Max could have smiled, he would have. And somehow, Star knew this. _"Not at all, my dear. Michael didn't trap you. I did. You all belong to me. I was the reason you took your own life. It only took a little bit of a nudge, really. You were the easiest. And now that you're with me, you can help deal with the rest of them."_

Star drew further away from him, shocked and disgusted at the same time. " _What makes you think I'll help you?_ " She demanded, much of the force behind her rage seeming to deflate.

 _"Because, my dear, once I have my body back...I can help you get yours as well. What's more, I'm sure you'd like to teach the boys a lesson. Frankly, I'm disappointed they decided to let me 'rot'. I look forward to our family reunion."_

Sam dashed into the hallway, having taken off the 'ceremonial robe' Roxie had forced on him, and knelt down by the shattered picture frame. He gulped and looked up, scanning his surroundings. Maybe they'd get rid of the monkey skull _first_...and burn that sage like Roxie told him...

"Nanook, did you knock this down?" Looked at his dog, who whined back at him, taking a deep breath and huffing. "No? You sure?" He asked hopefully, scratching behind the husky's ear.

* * *

 _"I was just trying to play nice, why did you have to turn this into a fight?"_ David demanded, stepping closer to Michael and putting a hand on the back of his neck so he could pull him forward until their foreheads were touching. Michael shoved him off and backed off. There was no way David would bare his fangs or pull a stunt out in the middle of the boardwalk. As long as he was surrounded by people, he was fairly safe. He could worry about consequences later, because right now he was _livid._

 _"Why did you have to show off? I was having a good time!"_ Michael mentally snapped back. Anyone watching would have thought they were just having a very intense and somewhat aggressive staring contest.

David crossed his arms, _"you're pack, Michael. If you have a good time, we all have a good time."_

 _"Whoa man, don't drag us into this. You're just paranoid your wifey is gonna run out on you,"_ Paul interrupted, and both Michael and David looked over at him angrily.

 _"Stop calling me that!"_ Michael growled.

 _"Relax, Paulie's just mad he has to wait until his birthday before he gets to have a little lamb,"_ Marko jumped in.

 _"A lamb isn't a sheep! It wouldn't even have a full coat!"_ Paul snapped.

"...You would know," Marko said out loud, grinning and crossing his arms. He was happily the only smiling member of their group now.

 _"You know what? When we get home...it's going to be different tonight. So watch your back. **David**." _ Michael shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and took a few steps away, before spinning around to go find Dwayne and his mother. He didn't want to end their little chat tonight on a weird note.

Paul and Marko stood up, watching Michael depart with curious expressions.

"What do you think he has planned?" Paul wondered aloud, nodding in Michael's direction.

"I dunno. But...my money's on Mikey. Just to keep things fresh. Can't always go for the sure thing," Marko replied.

David just growled and clenched his fists. He didn't like being threatened. He also didn't like being bet against, but he'd take care of Marko later.

"What about a draw? What are odds on a draw?" Paul suggested. Scratch that, he was going to take care of Michael, then Marko, then Paul.

* * *

Lucy walked quietly beside Dwayne, clutching her purse to her side as she stopped beside a trashcan and threw out her half-eaten hot dog. The little display between her son and his 'friend'...it had thoroughly destroyed her appetite. Perhaps she shouldn't have come out here tonight. Gazing up at the tall vampire beside her, who seemed to be waiting for her to say something, she suddenly realized she was standing all alone with someone who enjoyed killing people, and didn't have any real reason not to do the same to _her_.

"I won't hurt you. None of us will." Dwayne stated calmly, and Lucy couldn't help but wonder...if all of them were as intuitive as him.

"How old are you?" She asked.

"Older than you," he replied, simply.

"And...and are all of them?"

"Yes."

"...And you enjoy hanging around my teenage son?" She refrained from letting any sort of demand or firmness leak into her tone, but it was a little concerning. Granted, she knew they were vampires, and she _knew_ vampires could live a very long time. She'd learned as much from Sam and the few questions her father had answered since their incident with Max.

Dwayne chuckled and shrugged, "some day he'll be older than you are now, and he'll still look the same."

Lucy took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "and is Michael in an abusive relationship?"

Dwayne paused for...a very long time. He didn't know how to answer that question without letting on too much. He suspected she might not want to know the exact details of his 'relationship', or whatever David and Michael wanted to call it, and certainly not who it was with. "They have their moments. But..." he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I think they both like it that way."

Lucy gulped, shaking her head, "I'm not sure I like that very much."

Dwayne straightened up and shrugged, "I don't expect you to." He saw no reason to sugar-coat it. He was already being fairly nice, given the fact that he really didn't give a damn about her. Again, he just didn't want any headaches back at the cave if Michael threw a fit about how they treated his mommy.

"Mom?" Michael's voice. He was walking towards them, and Dwayne wasn't at all surprised to see that he looked like he was in a thoroughly bad mood.

"Michael?" Lucy stepped away from Dwayne and eagerly walked towards her son, "Is everything okay? What just happened? Why were you fighting?" She understandably had a lot of questions after that peculiar display.

"It's fine, I was just...snapping at him and making stuff up about his...sister...because I told him I wanted to talk to you alone, and he came to bug us anyway," Michael shrugged.

"Oh...okay..." Lucy's face smoothed out and she took a deep breath. She felt a little bit better. That was why the other boy had been so defensive! They were talking about his _sister._

"Sweetheart, you need to learn to control your temper," she reached up to smooth back Michael's hair once more. "Your father acts the same way, you know. That's why we were never able to work things out after the affair. And...yes...you aren't my baby boy anymore, you're not even human...but...well..." she stumbled for the words, pulling her hand away from his hair so she could rub at her temples. "Just try not to get so angry at the little things so much, okay?"

Michael looked away with a half-smile and licked his lips, almost exasperated at the advice. She had _no idea_ what he was going through. But...she was trying. And maybe, in a way, she had a point. "Okay. I'll try."

 _"Sister?"_ Dwayne's eyes met Michael's, and he smirked at him. _"Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything. Your hole is deep enough,"_ he chuckled.


	10. Chapter 10: Turning the Tables

Author's notes: It's going to get pretty intense and graphic in this chapter. Same advisory warnings as usual. It's a little more in-depth in this chapter, though. So...yeah.

* * *

By the time Michael had said his good-byes to Lucy, she forced him to promise to visit...though he couldn't imagine how he'd ever manage to pull that off. He couldn't handle disappointing her, though. Not after everything that had happened. And a lot had. Who knew? Maybe he could go on the pretense of grabbing his things. It was a pretty pathetic excuse, but better than nothing. And shit...after that fight...ah, man. Michael pressed his hands to his head and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Dwayne stepped up behind him and clapped a hand on his back.

 _"Don't worry about it too much. Maybe he'll calm down after the hunt tonight, huh?"_ Dwayne suggested, though there wasn't really any conviction in his mental voice. Or an attempt to pretend he believed a damn word of it. _"Besides, you won't have to worry about David until you've fed Star. So that gives you a good two or three hours."_

Feed...star. Michael jerked to attention, pulling his hands away from his head. That was when inspiration struck...and he forced himself to bury it deep in his mind, before Dwayne or the others caught on to what he was going to do. But he still allowed himself a little half-smirk as they headed towards the bikes, where David and the others were already waiting. David's eyes trained directly on Michael. He met it with an equally heated look.

Marko was actually the first one to start his bike and ride off, followed by Paul, then Dwayne. The last two lingered, neither wanting to back down from their little stand-off.

"Hungry?" Michael asked, kicking off and following the others. David overtook him and the rest, growling, _"More than you know."_

 _"Hey, after dinner, why don't we go to a chicken farm, huh?"_ Paul suggested, grinning madly. The cogs in his head were turning, and it was a truly terrifying sight.

 _"...Why?"_ Dwayne inquired, though he wasn't sure whether he should ask.

 _"Graduating to poultry now?"_ Marko cackled, swerving away from Paul as he lashed out with a clawed hand.

 _"No, I just think I know how I'm gonna win that bet!"_

A mental groan rang throughout the group, even Michael and David found the idea stupid enough to momentarily be distracted from their agitation with each other. Paul. Chicken farm. Star-ghoul. The factors in that equation could only lead to a disaster that they'd all be drug into.

 _"Hey, it gives us something to do while Mikey gets his spanking,"_ Paul defended himself. He was smart enough to stay well away from Michael when he thought this. Their youngest member was not above shoving him off his bike and damaging it. Then also damaging Paul.

* * *

Lucy sighed, taking her key out of the ignition and stepping out of her car. It had been...an interesting night. On the one hand, she was so completely overjoyed to have seen her oldest son and to still know he cared about her. On the other hand, she didn't like noticing the subtle and not so subtle changes in him. His temper was much worse, for instance. And he didn't seem to know how to control his language anymore, though she supposed he might have become like that living for a year with a gang of young men or a gang of vampires. But she wondered if he even realized that he sort of...walked differently. Like he was stalking something. And then there was that fight...Michael _never_ got into fights when he lived with her. There was the odd scuffle or two, of course. Generally with his little brother. And he'd never taken very well to seeing Sam bullied, so she overlooked those sorts of fights, though she still would have preferred he use his words instead.

She slammed her car door behind her and swiftly strode towards the house, almost afraid of what she might find inside. Would Sam and his friends be missing again? Would there be an army of destroyed furniture in the living room, and mountains of sharpened stakes harvested from said furniture? Would the house reek of crushed garlic?

As she drew towards the porch, she realized her father was standing outside smoking a pipe. Oh dear...he never smoked...not since mom died. Something awful must have happened.

"Dad?" She questioned, slowing her steps as she came closer to him.

"Dad, is everything okay?" Dear lord, this summer was never going to end! Maybe the boys had done all of the above, destroyed the furniture, rubbed garlic everywhere, and hightailed it out of there on some other sort of ridiculous vampire-hunting escapade.

"Luce. I think you need to take a couple of days off from work and go on a nice little trip. Your son and I need to have some alone time together. Bonding." He explained, grunting as he took a pull on his pipe and sighed. Lucy sniffed at the air and frowned, stepping back with her arms crossed.

"I thought you said you'd stopped smoking that stuff."

He shrugged. "Gotta have something for the arthritis."

"Well, dad, I don't think I can just walk in tomorrow and demand a few days off. But I'll see what I can do. If I do leave town, though, I'll need you to take the Frog boys to a doctor's appointment on Friday."

"They sick?"

"I think...that's a loaded question." She spoke carefully, and shook her head, stepping past him and pushing open the screen door. Inside, the house was silent. She stepped lightly down the darkened hallway. She didn't notice the missing picture on the wall, or the small bits of sparkling glass dust that had been missed in the clean-up. When she reached the living room, though, she realized she hadn't been breathing. She was prepared for the worst.

"Oh thank goodness..." Lucy pressed a hand to her chest and smiled, looking down at the coffee table where an opened box of Monopoly lay with pieces strewn everywhere. Sam, the Frog boys, and Roxanne were all lying in a circle dead asleep. For once, she thought, they actually looked like normal teenagers. Maybe things were going to be okay, after all. She wrinkled her nose, kneeling down beside her son and lifting up his hand to find him squeezing a small crucifix tightly in one fist. Well...okay, almost normal teenagers. Maybe she'd see if she could squeeze him into that doctor's appointment with the Frog brothers as well.

* * *

Max rested beside the wall, elongating the shadow of a ticking clock. He enjoyed watching Lucy. She was such a caring mother. And she couldn't be blamed for how her sons acted up, or even her father's little accident last year. Lucy was the blameless angel he would make his, once his plans were properly set into motion. It had taken a year to make someone in the house fall, and the girl was the easiest target. Easy to manipulate. Easy to control. What's more, she had a reason to be angry at his boys. Taking her fear and fondness for Michael was almost too simple. He mused to himself how long it might take to bring one of the boys back to the house, once Star was good and ready to take another host. Because he was fairly certain that if he could get one of them here...for longer than five minutes...the rest would easily follow.

 _"Star,"_ Max reached out with his whispery voice towards the spirit of the gypsy girl, who hid beneath the coffee table well away from him, lost in her own thoughts.

 _"I've got a lot to teach you. And unless I'm mistaken, we may not have much time. There are so many things to do..."_

Star was just now beginning to realize what a fool she had been. It was amazing how quickly her anger and bitterness melted away when she realized not even David or the others were really the source of her suffering. It was Max. And now she didn't even know what he could do if she were to fight back. She suspected he was capable of far more than he even let on. Star only hoped after what she'd done, and what she was about to do...that Michael could forgive her.

* * *

Tonight, they each hunted solo. Picking off a homeless person here, a junky there. In Santa Carla, there was always enough to spare. Michael, of course, had to bring back a doggy bag. Namely, he had to make a second trip away from the cave after they dropped off their bikes, and grab an extra victim on the shore. He was an elderly hippy, wiry and tough, but the Star creature wasn't picky. She'd pretty much eat anything with or without a pulse.

When Michael returned to the cave, it was eerily quiet. No snickering. No feet scuffling over dirt as one of the boys got into a wrestling match, or Paul decided to show off one of his awful dance moves. Nothing but the whining and howling of Star down below in her play pin. Which, in retrospect, wasn't very quiet at all. But there was no sign of David...

He frowned, taking flight through the sunken hotel towards Star, so he could drop her meal off and figure out where the hell David was hiding. Probably tucked in the corner somewhere like a venomous spider, just waiting to attack. Sneaky bastard. How many times had Michael gone exploring the sunken hotel alone just to find himself cornered by David somewhere over some imagined slight or moderately pissy statement from earlier in the evening? He was smart enough by now to realize the asshole was usually just baiting him, trying to get him mad. But it worked every damn time anyway. Not tonight, though. Tonight, Michael was going to get the upper hand...as long as he just stayed calm and didn't let on what he was planning to do.

His hair whipped at his face as he flew, dodging a collapsing beam in one place, swinging around piles of rubble and rock in another. It had taken quite a lot of practice in the past year to register obstacles as quickly as he flew. The first few months, he'd gotten countless injuries just trying to keep up with David and Marko.

By the time Michael reached the chamber, she was clawing at the earth, digging for the rotted scraps of her buried meals, and finding very little. He was amazed at how quickly she devoured even the bones from her previous meals. Where did she put it all, he wondered? Perching at the edge of the pit, Michael held the unconscious man propped up beside him as if they were sitting together watching some sort of show. Well...if he was going to do it, he'd better get ready to do it now...

"Almost done, Michael?" David sneered from the entrance to the chamber, arms crossed. Clearly, he had plans tonight to deal with his wayward Childe, and Michael was ready for him.

" _Almost_ ," he replied smoothly, laying the victim down and standing up to turn and face his master. He took a deep breath and sighed, "I'm done with you, David. All of you. Good-bye forever." With that, he took a step back and plunged over the edge of the pit. His screams echoed in the chamber around them, mingling with Star's hungry howls.

* * *

" _ **MICHAEL**_!" David shouted, his voice halfway between angry and shocked. Quickly shedding his coat, which he didn't want to get damaged if worse came to worst, he flew forward and dived down into the pit to try and catch his childe before the unthinkable happened...Star getting to beat the shit out of him before David had a chance.

But when he reached the bottom, Michael was nowhere to be seen...and Star was already on the attack, lunging for him with surprisingly quick reflexes. And Michael watched from above, hovering just below the top of the pit, and safe from any danger whatsoever.

" _I changed my mind!_ " Michael taunted, grinning madly as he watched David and the Star creature wrestle on the ground together, both hissing and screaming as large chunks of flesh were gouged, and bits of clothing torn to shreds. It was a good thing he had decided to take off his coat, because it would be completely destroyed by now if he hadn't.

 _"You're dead!"_ David hissed in his mind, a tone far beyond the general anger or dominant threats he made. Good. He deserved to stew a little tonight, after all the shit Michael had to go through. Especially after that episode with his mom. Blood-drinking monster or not, Michael was fiercely guarded about his mother and brother, and he didn't want David trying to intimidate or even approach them.

Blood painted the sides and floors of the pit, both Star's and David's. Neither of them looked ready to give up the fight yet. Star was hungry. David wasn't inclined to let himself be torn to pieces by a ravenous she-bitch.

 _"We're all dead, David,"_ Michael replied, raising himself to the edge of the pit so he could sit down. It was quite interesting to watch the two go at it, but he didn't have any plans of completely eviscerating David tonight. As appealing as the thought sometimes was. Actually, this whole show had really calmed him down quite a lot. He should have done this sooner. But gradually, his amusement began to fade, as he noticed Star was beginning to get the upper hand.

"...Shit..." Michael cursed, realizing he might have waited a little too long to end this. He really didn't want to go through another one of those weird resurrection rituals on the beach. And fuck, the others weren't going to be happy with him. Hell, David probably wouldn't either.

Just as it looked like Star had David properly pinned, and was ready to finally dig in to her well-earned meal, the strung-out hippy came flying towards her, thanks to the momentum of Michael's throw. And she wasn't one to pass up a better meal. Quickly jumping up, the ghoul dived for the unconscious man before he could hit the ground, and was viciously chowing down on his innards within seconds. With her properly distracted, Michael reluctantly descended into the pit and dug his claws into the remains of David's shirt collar, flying into the air to lift him out of harm's way and drop him near the edge of the pit.

"...David?" Michael hovered just out of the blonde's reach, just in case he had enough fight left in him to lash out. But he just lay there, motionless.

"...You alive?" Michael repeated nervously, inching a little closer and poking at his master's torso with the tip of his sneaker.

His brain suddenly went into panic mode. Shit, if this was bad enough to actually knock him out, there'd be hell to pay later. Fuck. FUCK!

...But...on the other hand...if they were going to get into a brawl later anyway...hell, might as well give David a taste of his own medicine. This was probably the only way he'd be able to do it anyway, Michael reasoned, even as he peeled off his jacket and tossed it to the side...very careful to toss it well away from the pit. He was quickly learning caution with his clothes around Star as well as David. The plus side of this whole scenario, besides getting to see the blonde get his ass thoroughly kicked, at least Michael would get to feel like a man for the first time in over a year. And not a little bitch.

Kneeling down beside David, he peeled off the remains of the blonde's shirt, tossing them aside as he began to work on his pants. For a moment, he wondered whether or not this wasn't just a little...or a lot...wrong. But a little voice in his mind reminded him how many times he'd had to do shit with David when he wasn't in the mood, or sometimes even conscious...and any semblance of guilt he might have had was washed away.

Another great thing about this little incident...Michael could actually think freely without worrying David would be snooping. He could admit to himself that he actually liked looking at the blonde lying in front of him, vulnerable for the first time since he'd been impaled on those horns. Michael knew that if he was still human, he probably wouldn't enjoy this at all. Being turned had done a lot of things to him. And it expanded 'horizons' like this in ways he'd rather not linger on. But it wasn't as if he looked the same way at Marko, Paul, Dwayne, or anyone else of the male persuasion with anything other than disinterest (and in some cases) disgust. Maybe it was the blood link David forced on him. Maybe he should hurry up and get this over with before he let his train of thought distract him long enough to the older vampire to regain his senses.

Once they were both thoroughly undressed, Michael nipped at David's neck, licking up the blood that welled up. He was getting excited, a little too excited, because he had already changed, and the scent of Star's blood mingling with David's was driving him mad. Slowly, almost tenderly, he eased David over onto his side so he could snuggle up behind him without jostling the older vampire too much. Didn't want him to wake up and ruin this before it got good. It was surprisingly difficult not to dig his fangs into his master's neck then and there, asserting himself properly without a fight. But he had a feeling that would definitely rouse him enough to fight back. So Michael settled with continuous nipping and affectionate licks, pulling David closer and rubbing his arousal against him. He shivered, biting back a chuckle at the thought of how ridiculous this would all be if he ended up 'pulling a David' and finishing before he even got started. Not that the blonde had done it more than once, but the term stuck. Because it pissed him off.

There was a sudden soft growl, and Michael decided to pick up his pace, skipping the 'romance' and roughly entering David. He shifted just enough so that he was sitting up with the blonde beneath him, just in case David roused himself further before he could finish. And he enjoyed the ride so much, he was past really caring about being cautious anymore as he craned over and bit down hard into David's neck before finally climaxing.

By the time Michael had relaxed and pulled away, he was panting for breath, both from the exertion and the thrill of what he'd finally managed to do. David shifted beside him, turning his face towards Michael with a sly smirk. "That was...interesting."

Michael blinked at him, scowling, "were you faking this whole time?!"

David shrugged, stretching his arms above his head and rolling onto his back so he could wrap one around Michael's shoulders, claws digging into his skin. "Mostly. You ever pull a stunt like that again though, I'm ripping her fucking throat out."

The brunette rubbed his face, sighing, "I want to go see my mom tomorrow night."

The blonde nuzzled closer, pulling Michael into his arms and craning forward to nip at his neck, "fine. Whatever. You win. Just be back by morning." It was amazing how nice David could be after a good screw.


	11. Chapter 11: Operation Chicken Drop

Paul struggled to hold onto one bike handle while his other hand was busy keeping a grip on a large clucking burlap sack and the other handle at the same time, the sack constantly moved and bounced over his shoulder as the prizes inside attempted to escape. Marko and Dwayne rode behind him silently, watching him struggle with more than a little amusement. Neither had offered to help, thanks to some simple reasoning from Dwayne: that would be cheating. If Paul wanted to win their little bet and bang the rabid ghoul, he'd have to follow through with any plans to do so without any aid from an outside source. Of course, the main reason behind that decision being just how hilarious it was watching him panic as he nearly swerved and lost control one moment, or came close to losing hold of the bag the next. It was a very long ride home.

 _"You think Mikey's going to be whimpering all night?"_ Marko wondered, temporarily trying to avoid the subject of Paul's so-called 'Operation Chicken Drop'.

 _"Who knows? He could surprise us all. He was pretty upset,"_ Dwayne reasoned.

 _"Let's make a bet. I say Mikey's half-dead and crying in the corner when we get back,"_ Paul joined in, shifting his grip on the bag.

 _"You'd be surprised. I've seen him hold up well through some pretty crazy shit. Man...you guys missed some of the best shows while you were dead."_ Marko smirked, thinking back on a particular event he wasn't actually allowed to bring up around Michael _OR_ David. Because it hadn't turned out very well for either of them, and kept him laughing for days.

 _"So what're you going with, Dwayne?"_ Paul asked, speeding up. He wanted to hurry and get rid of this bag of chickens before sunrise.

 _"Eh. David's pretty strong these days. I think whatever happens, they'll both be in a good mood by the time we get back,"_ Dwayne shrugged, speeding up to keep pace with Paul.

 _"That's a pussy bet. You can't go with that, you gotta pick one or the other,"_ Marko insisted. Plus, if David heard the odds they were playing, he wanted to be sure he wasn't the only one getting his ass kicked later. He'd learned firsthand how much moodier David had gotten ever since he took over as head vampire. Of course, part of him wondered if it was just because he was always worked up about Michael. They really were an emotional roller coaster sometimes.

 _"And what do you think is going to happen?"_ Dwayne didn't bother debating. He made his choice, and he was sticking with it.

Marko paused in thought, gunning his bike a little, _"I say...someone is getting his dick ripped off tonight."_

 _"You can't make that bet twice, Marko. We both know Paulie's getting a temporary sex change when he plays his chicken game. This is about David and Michael,"_ Dwayne smirked.

 _"You know what? When I win this, you're both gonna be my little bitches for a week,"_ Paul informed them both with more than a little excitement in his tone.

Their laughter echoed in the night fog as they approached the sunken hotel, with the occasional cluck and sound of feathers fluttering.

* * *

Grandpa Emerson scratched at his chin as he tightened his bathrobe and shuffled towards his bedroom. Who said your twilight years were supposed to be the relaxing ones? It felt like ever since his family moved back in, there'd been one thing after the next to disrupt his peace and quiet. And now that Sam had brought over his friends from last summer, paired them with his weird girly...he wondered if maybe this would be his last year. If things kept going at this rate, he'd turn in the towel on his own. It just wasn't worth the trouble.

He slowly opened his bedroom door and stepped inside, shuffling on two slightly over-sized house shoes. His room was fairly Spartan. One large bed that use to be for two, and now only one. A bedside table with a deer-horn lamp. A dresser. And a closet. None of his trinkets or projects littered the room. But on his dresser rested a portrait of his wife, frozen forever in her last happy moments.

"Well, I'm comin' to bed finally. And no, didn't go to the widow's house today," he rasped, slipping off his shoes and chuckling as he glanced over at the picture.

"I know how jealous you get," he remarked, unfastening his robe. "Course, can't blame you much. Always kept your eye on her when you were around, didn't you? Told me you'd be turning in your grave if I pulled something with her when you were gone?" He paused. "...Sorry about that."

Right as he was about to pull his covers down and slip into bed, the old man paused and stepped away. He slowly walked towards his dresser and pulled open the top drawer to look inside. There weren't any clothes, as one might expect. Just a large wooden box with a cross emblazoned over the top. He smirked and closed the dresser drawer again, returning to his bed.

"You keep an eye on it for me this week, sweetheart. Got a bad feeling." He paused. "Don't hurt to restock the holy water in the closet, neither." Stretching his arms above his head, Grandpa Emerson pulled his covers down and eased onto his mattress. Sometimes he wondered whether he should move somewhere like Florida. Things would be much simpler there. Less damned vampires.

"Gonna have to have some talks with Sam," the old man yawned, shifting slightly under the covers until he was comfortable enough to reach over and turn off his bedside lamp. "Gotta tell him bout the rest of the house rules. The ones that kept me and you alive here for over thirty years here," he closed his eyes, falling into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

And outside his bedroom door, the shadow of Max angrily slipped by, unable to enter. Star couldn't help but follow, unsure exactly what was upsetting him so much. But it must have something to do with the old man.

* * *

Marko was the first to enter the cave, and...there was definitely something very off about both David and Michael. For one, David was wearing a lime green tank top under his coat.

"Trying out a new look, Davey?" The smaller vampire snickered and crossed the lobby to perch on the side of the fountain to get a good look at him.

David frowned, not even glancing over at Marko as he tucked his fingers into the knot of a string puzzle he was working on. "Need to get more clothes tomorrow," he grunted. But there wasn't much force behind his words. He really didn't give a shit what he was wearing right now, because even if it was a pink tutu...he could still own their asses.

Marko glanced back over at Michael who reclined on the couch tossing a baseball in the air...and looking way more pleased with himself than usual. Damn. Maybe Marko should have just stayed in the cave tonight instead of chasing Paul to that stupid fucking chicken farm while they froze their asses off trying to catch a bunch of shit-covered birds.

Paul didn't even stop to say hello, or remark about David's new shirt. He simply flew directly through the lobby and straight towards his selected destination.

Michael stopped tossing his ball in the air and glanced in Paul's direction, smirking slightly. "He might have better luck tonight. She got herself good and worked up already, didn't she?" He looked over at David slyly. And the older vampire feigned an angry scowl, but not very convincingly. He'd actually been pleasantly surprised Michael even had it in him to pull a nasty trick like that. Granted, he wouldn't be so impressed if it happened a second time...and he liked to think he was smart enough not to let the opportunity arise. But he just couldn't bring himself to really work up any rage over it. Even if Michael liked to play the role of some sort of martyr half the time, he could be quite vicious. It was nice to see that side of him when they weren't hunting.

 _"Dude, what did he do?"_ Marko had crept up to David and began to poke at his neck, noticing the half-healed scratches and bite-marks on David's exposed flesh.

 _"None of your fucking business,"_ David snapped back. Yeah, he wasn't really mad about the whole thing. But he wasn't about to publicize what had happened to the rest of the god damned world if he could help it.

Dwayne looked back and forth between David and Michael with a secret smirk on his face, before tucking his hands into his pockets and strolling out of the lobby in the direction Paul had taken. He had an inkling about what may have happened, though not the finer details. Logically there was only one way Michael would be half as cheerful as he looked. Good. No shouting matches tonight. Maybe he could actually get to the next chapter in his book in peace and quiet.

 _"Tell me,"_ Marko whined, hating that there was some kind of juicy story he wasn't privy to. Not to mention, they had to find out who won the bet.

" _No,"_ David replied, fiddling with his string puzzle a little more and frowning when he managed to get his thumb tangled up and had to start again.

 _"...Tell me..."_ Marko leaned closer, craning over the back of David's wheelchair and poking at his head.

 _"No, Marko."_

 _"I wanna know!"_

David lowered his hands and looked up at the smaller vampire with a warning glare. "Why don't you go bug Michael?"

"Oh! Good idea! He sucks at keeping secrets," Marko grinned, leaping towards the couch and flopping down over Michael's legs, splaying his arms up above the couch and whining, "tell meeeeeeee!"

Michael resumed tossing his baseball into the air and shrugged, keeping his mouth shut. Not to protect David's modesty, but because he was enjoying this. It was the only real way to upset Marko.

Marko let out a deep sigh and whined, "I want to know. Tell. Tell me now. What happened?"

Michael shifted his legs beneath Marko and managed to pull one of his feet out to give the smaller vampire a sharp kick in the ribs. But he was stubborn. He wasn't going to budge an inch until he got the story. Still, as long as Michael didn't think about it, or even let the idea of what he'd done to David slip into his mind...then Marko would never know. He frowned. How long was he going to be able to do that, though, when he fully planned on spending the next several months gloating about it if the others weren't around?

Marko snapped up, howling with laughter and slipping off of Michael's legs onto the couch.

"Ah...fuck..." Michael scowled. He knew he shouldn't have thought about it. David looked over at him and frowned, "I've really got to teach you how to keep your stupid brain shut."

"What?" Michael squinted, confused. "That doesn't make any sense."

"You know what I meant."

"Oh man, I gotta tell Dwayne and Paulie..." Marko gasped out between tears, stumbling to his feet and scrambling out of the lobby.

David threw his head back against the back of his chair and sighed. He was never going to hear the end of this. Luckily he didn't have to muse about it too long, because pretty soon there was a screaming sound coming from the exact direction he would have expected. And an awful lot of clucking. Then silence.

Michael stopped tossing his baseball in the air again and pulled himself up on the couch so that he was in a sitting position, glancing back over his shoulder. He hoped Star was okay. David snorted. She didn't even have a functioning mind, and Michael was still obsessed about her.

There was a tense silence, followed by the sound of footsteps, and...Paul stumbling into the lobby with the goofiest grin he'd ever worn, plastered head to toe with blood and chicken feathers. His shirt was gone. His pants were shredded. His boots...beyond repair. "Score!" Paul crowed, throwing his hands into the air and doing a swift head-bang as Dwayne came up behind him, followed by Marko.

Dwayne actually looked astonished, which was...odd. "I can't believe that actually worked...I can't believe the _dumbest plan in history_ actually worked!"

And right after he said this, Paul collapsed on the ground with a groan and whimper.

Marko was having the best night of his life, and he had the grin to prove it. Of course, that was when he realized something awful...

"Dwayne. Paulie won."

Dwayne let out a deep breath, shaking his head in disgust, "yeah...I know."

Paul pushed himself up on shaking arms and smirked up at them both, " _welcome to bitch city, **ladies**_!" Then he promptly fell back down, thoroughly drained of any desire to get up again. But his point was made.

David quirked an eyebrow, lowering his tangled string puzzle and glancing down at Paul. "Thought we'd agreed he couldn't play with those kind of stakes anymore?"

"Well... _we didn't think he'd win_!" Marko protested, running his hands through his hair. The juicy secret between David and Michael was temporarily forgotten.

* * *

Author's notes: What exactly did Paul do with all of those chickens? I debated whether I should elaborate and describe the scene. Then I realized...it was much more amusing to leave it to your imagination.


	12. Chapter 12: House Rules

Author's notes: If you were wondering at all what kind of car Roxanne has, it's a 76 Cutlass. I don't know why you'd really want to go that in-depth about a fan fiction, but there you go.

* * *

When they'd woken up that morning on the living room floor, Sam's grandpa was sitting in his lazyboy eyeing them, root beer in one hand propped up on the arm of his chair, a bag of oreos tucked into his lap. The next thing they knew, he was telling Sam to send his friends out for a bit so they could have a man-to-man talk, and Roxie decided what better time than then to go ahead and take care of their little ghostly grocery list.

So while Sam still sat on the living room floor, half-awake, two plastic monopoly hotels sticking to his face where he'd slept on them, Roxanne was eagerly dragging the Frog brothers out the door. She didn't even leave them time to get changed.

"Seeya soon, Killer!" She spun around and rushed back into the living room to tackle Sam to the ground just as he was beginning to get up, and delivered one good smooch right on his forehead, grinning goofily at him before she pulled away and dashing back outside.

Sam just stared after her and used his shirt sleeve to rub at the spot she'd kissed him. Then he looked back over at the old man and pulled himself back to his feet. "Whatever we gotta talk about grandpa, can it wait until I take a shower?"

Grandpa Emerson eyed him quietly and turned to watch his friends head outside. "They're probably gonna be awhile. Yeah. Sure. Just be sure to meet me in my workshop when you're cleaned up. Got a lotta stuff to tell you bout the house rules."

Sam frowned and nodded. He thought he already knew all the house rules...did he break another one last night without realizing it? Sometimes it felt like grandpa just made them up on the spot when he was in a bad mood. Maybe their 'party' last night had ticked him off.

* * *

Roxanne shoved the last of her melted candles into her trunk, stacking the cardboard box with the remainder of her supplies on top of it all, and slamming the hood down with more than a little enthusiasm. "So, the way I see it, we'll probably make more headway if I drop one of you off to get the chalk from the hardware store...and I can probably cruise around until I find some old lady around here with a bunch of red bricks in her garden she won't notice missing," she explained as she crossed around to her driver's side door and yanked it open.

"Why don't you just buy the bricks?" Edgar grunted, climbing into the car, quickly followed by Alan. They did their best to pile into the front seat together, but it was too cramped, and Alan was forced to awkwardly climb into the backseat while Edgar stubbornly refused to budge from his spot.

Roxanne shook her head, "no way! You know how much cash I had to fork out for all those candles?! And the looks those chicks gave me at the checkout, you'd think I was some kinda weirdo or something. And I'm like...totally broke. You got cash for the chalk, right?" She craned in her seat as she buckled her belt and looked back and forth between Alan and Edgar. They remained silent.

She rolled her eyes and stuck her head out of her open car window. She always left them down, because she still hadn't fixed her AC yet.

"HEY, KILLER! YOU GOT ANY CASH FOR SOME CHALK? AND MAYBE A SODA?" She paused and looked back at Edgar and Alan, "you guys want sodas, right?" They nodded. "THREE SODAS?" She stretched of the window again to shout the last sentence.

Sam reluctantly came outside, a towel slung over one arm, and a couple of crumpled fives in his hands. "You gotta pay me back for this, Roxie. It's my comic money," he informed her as she held out her hand from the car window to grasp at the cash.

"Awwwww, but we're doin' this for _you_!" She pouted, though her smile betrayed her. "Yeah, yeah. I'll give ya the money next week."

* * *

Max and Star lurked in the workshop together, tucked into the shadows of various stuffed and half-stuffed projects. Though she stayed as far away from as she could, she felt like it still wasn't enough distance. It was like something about Max physically drew her closer. Like he was draining her. And she didn't like it.

" _What do you plan to do, Max?"_ She asked, her voice a tickling whisper in the air, barely audible to anyone besides herself and the other spirit nestled in the shadows.

" _The moment the opportunity arises, I'll just need you to follow my lead, girl. I'm not sure when it will happen, but I can be very patient. This isn't the first time I've died, you know,"_ he replied, focusing on the old man who sat at his work table sipping his root beer and browsing through his tv guide.

" _And what if I decide I don't want to follow your lead?"_ Star asked boldly, with far more force than she could ever muster around David or the others when she was alive. But...knowing that she'd been driven into this state, manipulated, corrupted...she'd gotten to the point that she'd had enough of this.

Max surged towards her, and the darkness of his silhouette overtook Star's own. Though she was dead, and had no body to feel with...she suddenly grew very cold and tired. Like she'd been the moment she truly died. That last instant when she was fully aware of exactly what the pain of crossing that threshold could be...and how foolish she'd been to take that fateful step over it for the love of a boy she barely knew.

" _If you decide you don't want to follow me, young lady, then I'll strip your soul into little pieces and devour each of them as slowly as I see fit. You think I_ _ **need**_ _you to accomplish my goals? No. I could do this on my own. Be grateful that you're even useful to me, and don't ever question my decisions again."_ He growled, before slowly drawing away. And though he'd left her in one piece, she almost felt like he had indeed shaved off a small portion of her soul, taking it with him as he retreated...just to show her he could...

Grandpa Emerson sat up straight in his stool and looked about the room slowly, "don't think I can't hear you. I know you're here." He rasped. Star edged closer to the table in surprise. Had he really said what she'd thought?

When Sam peeked his head through the door, dripping wet and wrapped in his bathrobe, she realized it was only a coincidence, and drew back. No. He couldn't hear them. Didn't know they were there at all.

* * *

"What did you wanna talk to me about, grandpa?" Sam edged closer into the room, closing the door slowly behind him and leaning up against it. Just in case this was a short conversation, he wanted to be ready to leave as quickly as possible. He hated this room.

"Come closer, Sam. Take a seat," the old man reached under his work table and pulled out a short stool with a leather seat cracking right down the middle. Sam wrinkled his nose and walked over to it, using the bottom of his robe to wipe some of the dust off of it before sitting down.

"Tell me what you remember bout your grandma, Sammy," Grandpa Emerson leaned towards him, crossing his hands over his legs and lowering his head.

"Uh..." Sam licked his lips, "she was old. And...she smiled a lot. Died when I was little...mom always talks about her. Uh..."

Grandpa Emerson smirked, leaning back, "yeah. She smiled an awful lot. Y'know, your grandma was a knockout when she was younger. Big beautiful eyes, long legs, slim waist...and she could cook a cherry pie that would knock your socks off."

"...you miss her today or something, Grandpa?" Sam asked, a little surprised. The old man never talked about grandma. Usually he just stayed quiet about her, even when mom waxed nostalgic to bring up some old story or two about their weekends baking cookies or collecting shells on the beach.

"I miss her all the time, Sam. But that's not what I want to talk to your about. Years ago, your mother probably won't remember much about it, but we used to travel a lot. And when we finally came to settle down in Santa Carla, a few things started happening around here that made us realize...we needed some house rules. Things to keep us safe. So bad stuff wouldn't occur if we were to forget. Last night, Sam, you broke one of the most important rules of all. You brought over an uninvited guest, and you kicked the door wide open for the other one." Though his voice didn't waver as he said this, there was a firm conviction in his tone that actually kind of scared Sam.

"Now, what're you gonna do to make sure they leave without a fight?" Grandpa Emerson narrowed his eyes.

Sam took a deep breath and gulped.

"Well? What're you gonna do?" The old man licked his lips, waiting for an answer. When one didn't come, he sighed and closed his eyes.

"Thought so. Looks like I'm gonna definitely have to make sure your mother goes outta town this week, then. And you, Sam, are gonna have to learn some valuable lessons about following the house rules. The next one, by the way, is one you gotta learn on your own."

* * *

Michael yawned, stretching his arms above (or below) his head, as he dangled upside-down from his perch beside David. The sun had finally gone down, and he could hardly wait to go visit his family tonight. For the first time. Alone. And since he'd already had a pretty decent meal the night before, he didn't have to worry about his hunger distracting him too much while he was there. He was just about to release his hold on the perch and take flight, when David pulled him closer and nibbled at his earlobe, causing an unwilling shudder to run down Michael's spine. Even when he was human, he'd been unbelievably sensitive there.

 _"Remember what I said. Be back before sunrise,"_ David warned. Though whether it was out of concern or a threat, Michael didn't care to wonder too much on before he removed David's arms from his waist and rushed out of the sunken hotel, urging the wind to take him as fast as it could. There was only so much time to waste before he'd have to come back, and he wanted to make the most of it.

David shifted, watching him depart, and frowning.

 _"He'll be fine. He's a big boy."_ Dwayne told him, leaping down from the perch and floating to the ground.

 _"Not like he can get very far before you track him down, anyway,"_ Marko added, snickering.

 _"First order of business, boys, your master...that's me...demands to be carried to the lobby and pampered mercilessly! Dwayne, I want you to wear that nice little dress I bought you, sweetheart. The one with the ribbons."_ Paul intoned, reminding Dwayne and Marko quickly just how much of an asshole he could be when he won his bets.

Dwayne scowled up at him and held up his middle finger.

 _"A deal's a deal, boys,"_ David chuckled, floating to the ground. Any bets won in their group were solemn vows, there was no turning back once the stakes were made and won. At least he'd still have a bit of fun tonight, even if Michael wasn't around to tease. Dwayne and Marko could be just as fun when they were riled up, as rarely as that happened. Besides, they knew the risks they were taking when they let Paul pick his reward for the bet. They couldn't chicken out now.

 _"Marko!"_ Paul clapped his hands, releasing his feet from the perch and floating in the air.

 _"What?!"_ Marko snarled, already on edge. This was already going way too far. Paul was going to pay.

 _"You'll be naked tonight, I think. Then...I wanna see you take a swim in the ocean like a good girl for me. Pretend you're a dirty little mermaid slut."_

 _"_ WHAT _?!"_ Marko shouted out loud, panicking.

 _"Shouldn't have called him a chicken fucker, Marko,"_ Dwayne shrugged. Wearing a dress was better than being covered in welts and saltwater any day. Honestly, hearing Marko's first punishment of the night made him feel a lot less irritated. Not that he still wasn't ticked off about the whole thing, though.

David snorted. He might be a bit demanding at times, maybe a little overly-dominant...but no one could honestly say power didn't go to Paul's head in a pretty sickening way. David was so proud of him right now. Granted, if he'd been in on the bet, he probably wouldn't be.


	13. Chapter 13: Homecoming

Author's notes: I adored Wonder Woman when I was a kid. She's such a badass. And yes, I didn't learn my lesson about waiting until I'm done writing for the day before posting a chapter. Because I did it again. When will I ever learn?!

* * *

Sam reclined on his bed flipping through a Wonder Woman comic. Roxie and the Frogs hadn't gotten back yet, which really kind of bugged him, but he didn't know what he could do since there was no way to really contact them unless they called the house. The talk with grandpa had been...illuminating? Interesting? Creepy? Disturbing? Maybe all of them. Why was it that he found out cool stuff about the old man only after bad shit started happening? He hoped some day, if he got the chance to grow old (though at this rate, he probably wasn't) that he'd be a little bit nicer to his own grand kids and actually give them a heads-up about vampires and shit before things got nasty. Maybe if gramps had, Michael would still be human. Who knows? He might have even finished high school. Mom would probably appreciate that.

He wondered if vampires ever bothered to get GED's. Maybe they didn't because there was no good reason. Maybe they didn't, because they'd just end up getting hungry and ripping out their examiner's throats out before they finished the test. He'd have to ask Mike later, if they ran into each other on the boardwalk. Hopefully the other shit-suckers would be distracted...cause he didn't know if he could handle another trip to their cave. It was just too...god, how did Mike handle living somewhere like that? And...oh shit, he probably slept like them too.

"Sam?" His mom called from the hallway. Folding his comic carefully, he reached for the plastic cover beside him on his mattress and very tenderly slit it back inside, folding the top over and making sure none of the pages had been folded back in the process. Man, Ed and Alan would never let him live it down if they knew he liked chick comics. Even if she did have great tits. And there was just something about that lasso of truth...

"Yeah, mom?" Sam shouted back, sliding his feet over the side of his bet and standing up.

"It's dark out, and your friends still aren't back. I think maybe you should give Roxanne's parents a call and check if they're spending the night at her house." Lucy stepped into Sam's bedroom doorway and leaned an arm up against the frame, eyes wrinkling a little at the edges with the telltale signs of worry. In her free hand, she was grasping a lace blouse. She'd managed to get the next few days off, and had plans to visit a few friends she hadn't seen since they'd move to Santa Carla. So she was packing tonight, and getting ready to leave in the morning.

"Okay mom," Sam nodded, standing up and crossing towards her. "I'm sure they're fine. They're fine, mom." He said it once to convince her. The second time to convince himself. If Alan, Ed, and Roxie turned up dead the next morning...well, they were his friends. It would suck. They weren't great friends. And Roxie definitely wasn't the best girlfriend. But they were better than shit-suckers.

The doorbell rang and Lucy turned away from the doorway, "I think that's them. Sam, you didn't give Edgar or Alan a key to get back inside if they came home late?" She asked him over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway and towards the stairs. Sam just shrugged and stayed in his bedroom. "Sorry, mom, didn't think they'd be out this late!" He called after her. _"Didn't think they were that stupid..."_ he mumbled under his breath. Either the Frogs had worked up their courage again, somehow, and tried to go after the Lost Boys during the day...or Roxie had coerced them into another weird ritual or extra side-trip. Now that he thought about it, 'surprisingly', he was pretty sure the latter was probably what happened.

Suddenly, a loud roaring disrupted his thoughts, and Sam rushed to his open bedroom window where the curtains were blowing like mad, and down in the front yard two bright lights flashed. Oh shit! They were here! Mike went full-blown psycho shit-sucker...they were gonna kill everybody in the house! He panicked, reaching for a cross and a sharp pencil on his desk, and rushing downstairs to protect his mom.

* * *

Michael smirked up at his brother's bedroom window and slid off of his bike. The dork was way too easy to scare. He could actually hear his brother's heart hammering in his chest as he rushed through the house. But he promised himself he wasn't going to play any more jokes on Sam tonight. He didn't want to get fried on a stereo or thrown into a bathtub full of holy water. It probably wasn't going to happen, though, because Michael couldn't smell the Frog brothers nearby. They'd either gone home or gone out somewhere. Good. He didn't know if he could control himself around them, as annoying as Alan's thoughts in particular were. Little bastard calling him an idiot just because he'd made a couple of mistakes. What sane person would have honestly thought David and the boys were vampires, or even realized they were being fed blood after a couple of magic tricks with shitty take-out food?

As he drew close to the porch, Michael paused and sniffed the air. Something smelled...odd. He narrowed his eyes, drawing up to the front door and knocking gently. The smell was coming from inside the house. It was kind of familiar...like Italian food. But way too strong. Had mom burnt something on the stove? Before he could ponder this further, the door was yanked open, and a dumb-founded Lucy stood in front of the screen.

"Michael?" She asked, dropping the blouse she was holding and shoving the door open wide so she could pull her son into her arms. "You came! You came! Oh goodness, I didn't think you'd ever show up here again!" She pulled away, squeezing his arms and keeping her hands firmly on them, just to be sure he was real and wasn't going to disappear any second.

"When I talked to you last night, it just felt like...it just felt like we were saying good-bye forever. And...and you came home! Oh, Michael...please tell me you're staying, that you've gotten away from them somehow, that you're back to norm-"

Michael gently pried one of his mother's hands from his arm and put a finger to her mouth. "Mom. I'm just dropping by for a visit." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "But I promise that wasn't good-bye, and neither is this."

"BACK OFF, BLOOD-SUCKER!" Sam shouted inside, running up behind Lucy with a pencil in his hand. She rounded on her youngest son and smacked him across the face in one surprisingly swift motion.

"SAMUEL. EMERSON. Do _**not** _ threaten your brother, young man! And I never want to hear that word in this house again!" She closed her eyes and tried to smooth her expression out, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Both Sam and Michael gaped at her in astonishment. In that one movement and shout, she'd revealed more than a little of the stress and turmoil she'd been holding in. She hadn't even been as upset when she finally saw Michael on the boardwalk.

"Mom...it's not that big a deal," Michael mumbled, glancing over at Sam. "I mean...that's what I am, isn't it? And Sam's a little dork, so we're even." He shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Sam..." Lucy pulled her youngest son into her arms. "It's just been...it's been rough on me. This whole year has been rough."

Sam looked down at his feet, nodding into her shoulder. "You're right mom. I'm sorry. Sorry, Mike...I think the Frogs rubbed off on me a little...was worried you snapped or something when you showed up tonight..."

Michael spread his hands out, "nope. Nothing up my sleeves, either. So...one of you gonna invite me in?"

"Do what you want," a raspy voice growled from within the house, "but you ain't getting an invite in this house, Michael."

"Dad!" Lucy turned around, frowning.

The old man shrugged, walking by the doorway with a comb in his hand as he got himself ready to go out for a visit to the Widow Johnson's. "You don't have to invite him for the kid to get in the house, Lucy. Don't matter if he's family or not, ya gotta follow the house rules."

Sam looked between his grandfather, his mom, and Michael. "He's got a point mom. There's house rules for a reason."

"Gee, thanks," Michael rolled his eyes. He wasn't offended, though. He was just hoping to get a look at his reflection, since he hadn't seen it in over a year.

Sam smirked, "don't worry, Mike. I'm not gonna try and stake ya." He paused. "Besides, Nanook'll be there if you try to pull anything."

Lucy sighed, going into the house and keeping a hand on the screen door so the boys could follow. Sometimes she wondered whether things might have turned out differently if she'd just stayed with her ex-husband. At least they could have avoided the nightmares in Santa Carla.

"So did you make Italian food, mom?" Michael asked as he followed his mother and brother inside. There was a slight tingling feeling as he stepped over the threshold, and the smell was 10x worse inside...but other than that, he was fine.

"What? No. I made casserole."

* * *

Meanwhile, the Frog brothers had _not_ stalked the beach towards the sunken hotel to dispatch with the Lost Boys. Roxie did _not_ lead them on a new adventure to get them all into another mess. They didn't even decide to spend the night at her house. No. They were stuck on the side of the road, waiting for a lift, because Roxie had swerved to avoid hitting a flock of chickens on the road that had escaped from a local chicken farm...and drove straight into a ditch. So now they were just trying to get someone's attention, hopefully they'd be able to get home soon. Their waiting games were getting pretty old.

"I spy..." Alan began, searching the darkening landscape. "...Something white."

"Is it a chicken?" Edgar growled.

"Oh! I know! It's the feathers on my car hood, isn't it?" Roxie bobbed on her heels, excited. She was the only one who seemed to still be in a good mood. Because she wasn't capable of being in a bad one.

"That still technically counts as a chicken," Edgar argued.

"How the hell did all these chickens get out here, anyway?!" Alan exclaimed, the game temporarily forgotten as one of the birds in question rustled by him, squawking loudly.


	14. Chapter 14: What Girlfriend?

Author's notes: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than I'd like. But...hopefully the content makes up for it. Also, thank you guys so much for the reviews. I'm loving them.

* * *

Michael flopped down onto the couch in the living room, stretching out his legs in front of him and relaxing. The room was bright. Much brighter than the cave or the boardwalk. And it made him realize just how beat-up his sneakers looked, as he glanced down at his feet and wiggled his toes. The fibers around the edges were so paper thin, he could practically see his socks.

"Hey, is my stuff still here, mom?" Michael turned towards Lucy as she entered the room and took a seat at one of the easy-chairs opposite the coffee table, facing him. He could save himself some trouble and just grab a pair of old shoes. No need to break them in. No need to switch to something newer or shinier. David was always bugging him about his sneakers. Any little thing to piss him off, Michael would go out of his way to do. He was becoming a zen master of passive aggression.

"Of course. We bagged up a few things and put them in the shed out back to make room for Star-..." Lucy paused, smoothing out her skirt and looking up at the ceiling, "...for Star, while she's been staying with us."

Michael nodded. Speaking of Star, her clothes were getting dangerously ratty and shredded. Maybe he should grab something for her while he was here? But then...how would he manage to get anything on her? Maybe he could convince Paul to try for another round and up the ante under pretense. No, he really didn't want to encourage the bastard to touch her again. Rabid and mindless or not, nobody deserved that particular blonde vampire's affection.

"Hey, is that my jacket?" He furrowed his eyebrows, noticing a lump of black leather slung over the arm of the couch opposite him as Sam flopped down beside him and blocked his view of it.

"Uh...yeah..." Sam scooped it up and tossed it to Michael, he caught it in his arms and frowned. There was something off about it...kind of smelled...

"Sammy, did one of your stupid Frogs wear this?" He pressed it to his nose and inhaled the scent to confirm it. Yep. _Edgar._

 _"_ Yeah, he was kinda freaking out after that joke you guys played. Thought he was turning into one of you, so he tried to get in some practice dressing like ya too..." Sam's face was halfway between mild amusement and nervousness that Mike would slug him for letting things get that far.

"..." Michael lowered the jacket and handed it to Sam, "I want it back next week. Dry-cleaned."

"Michael Emerson, it's not even dirty," Lucy scolded, not really understanding why it was such a big deal. To her it just seemed like he was being a little antagonistic.

"Mom. It wreaks. I don't know if you're aware of this, but those kids don't bathe very often. You can smell them a mile down the road before you even see them. The second they get out of the car, it's like the fungus circus has just come to town with an army of corn-chip scented sweat clowns," Michael defended himself. It was true. Edgar and Alan did kinda have a perpetual BO issue. Being a vampire with super senses didn't help matters, either.

"...They're not that bad," Lucy shook her head, though...she did flinch a little. "I'll have to talk to them about hygiene before they leave, though...I just really don't know how to approach it without hurting their feelings."

"I'll tell them," Sam suggested. "Kinda tired of my bed smelling like ass in the morning when they're done with it."

"So!" Lucy clapped her hands together, effectively closing the book on that topic and ready to dive into the next one, "tell me about this girlfriend of yours. What is she like? When am I going to meet her?"

Sam raised his eyebrows and stared at his older brother, "you got a girlfriend, Mike? What about Star? Since when?!"

Michael shifted on his seat and cleared his throat, "uh...she...that..."

"She's that one boy's sister. What did you say his name was? David? You know, Sam. The one who keeps his hair in that unique style with the spikes?"

Sam squinted, "mom...I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a sister. I didn't see any girls when we went to visit them last night."

Michael resisted, just barely, the strong urge to kick his little brother. Or choke him. "...she went shopping. For milk," he ground out through his teeth.

Sam shook his head, "you guys don't have a fridge. Mom, there's no way Mike has a girl-" Sam's eyes suddenly grew wide as he stared at his brother. "Dude! _SICK_!" That explained more than Sam even wanted to know. Like all the weird looks the blonde jerk kept giving his brother all night. At the time, Sam had been too terrified to think much about it, but now... _ugh_. He was seeing a new side to his brother, and he really hoped it wasn't the reason Mike had ended up as a bloodsucker after all. There were still a lot of things Mike hadn't told him, like how exactly he did end up disappearing with David that night. Maybe he like...got up after everyone else went to bed and tried making out with David's corpse, like a freaky...gay...vampire Sleeping Beauty, and decided to start shit-sucking again of his own free will?!

"...am I missing something?" Lucy looked back and forth between her sons. "Michael, don't glare at your brother like that. It's scaring me." And indeed, Michael's eyes were filled with so much heat, she barely recognized him in that moment.

The smaller boy just glanced over at Lucy and smile faintly, "I mean...like...sick, because she's probably a vampire, mom. Sorry Mike, didn't mean to offend you or nothing. I'm...I'm sure she's..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words. So he just left it at that, while Michael took a few seconds to calm himself down. As long as his brother kept his little eureka moment, and his demented conclusion jumping to himself, there was no reason to lose his temper. Mom didn't need another reason to freak out.

Lucy nodded slowly, feeling it was probably best just to let whatever had just passed between them go unanswered. "I'm going to go check on the casserole. Sam, why don't you help your brother find his things out in the shed?" She suggested, standing up and smoothing out her skirt, picking off a few pieces of lint in the process.

"Sounds great!" Sam leapt to his feet and nearly ran from the room, throwing the jacket back over Michael's head. The older boy frowned, pulling it down and dropping it on the couch. He'd rather not smell like Frog for the next few hours, if he could help it.

"Hey, mom, you mind if I use the bath tub before I head back home tonight?" He looked back over at Lucy, and she smiled. "Michael, you don't have to ask. This is still your home. You just don't...sleep here...or really visit very often..." She paused. "You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yeah, I get it." He smirked, standing up and following Sam from the house. It was just as well that everything was in the shed. That smell was beginning to get to him, and he was starting to get just a little nauseous. Plus, he realized he needed to have a very serious talk with his brother. Make a few things clear before Sam started getting even weirder ideas about him and David. He didn't think he could handle seeing those kinds of images in his brother's head. Maybe that Roxanne chick was just Sam's type, after all.

* * *

Star watched the two head out of the house, still shocked Michael had made an appearance tonight. Her last ounce of hope that maybe Max's plans, whatever they were, would ultimately fail...crumbled away. At Max's urging, she reluctantly trailed after them. He didn't say as much, but she suspected he was somehow trapped within the confines of the house, like she had been in the cave until she latched herself onto Sam.

 _"Star,"_ Max called out as she drifted from the back door. She paused, hovering in the air, reluctant to listen.

 _"Figure out a way to stall Michael. Keep him here until the sun rises. Then, we should be able to bring the rest of my boys back to me, easily."_

 _"How am I suppose to do that?"_ She demanded, though she was careful not to let any hint of anger or defiance slip into her voice. She didn't want to challenge him, knowing what he was capable of.

 _"You're a very quick learner. I could tell as much when you came back here, hitch-hiking in Sam's body. You'll figure something out."_

* * *

David and Paul reclined in the sand on the beach, while Dwayne dragged a shrieking Marko towards the shore. It was more than a little funny, in more ways than one. Years ago, Paul had snatched a large dress from one of their victims in hope that it would some day come in handy. And since it was just Dwayne's size, it was fairly obvious to all of them exactly how he was eventually going to make use of it. Frankly, that was one of the many reasons the rest of the boys had solemnly vowed that they would never let Paul make a 'bitch bet' again. But the odds of him actually getting under Star's skirt had just been so...ridiculously impossible...neither Dwayne nor Marko had really cared when he threw out his 'bitch bet' promise after their chicken gathering escapade.

"C'mon man, don't make me do this!" Marko struggled, trying to pry Dwayne's hands free from his shoulders. The darker-haired vampire shook his head gravely. _"Don't worry, Marko. It's only a week. When this is over, there's nothing to stop us from pummeling his ass for this."_

 _"That's easy for you to say, Dwaynetta!"_ Marko snarled, referring to the creamy-white lace dress Dwayne wore, bedecked with bright red ribbons and bows. Somehow the girlish effect was dampened, however, by his perpetual scowl and lumbering gait. Honestly, his stubborn refusal to even complain about it was taking some of the fun out of the whole thing for Paul. But the sight of Marko both trying to cling to Dwayne and keep a towel wrapped firmly around him while he was carried like a brushing bride towards the ocean more than made up for it.

 _"Mikey doesn't know what he's missing!"_ Paul cackled, tossing his hair and giving a loud wolf whistle towards Dwayne and Marko. "C'mon, girls, I wanna see my show!"

David glanced over at Paul, a slight smirk on his lips as he tucked a cigarette between them. _"If you're not careful, Dwayne just might snap and toss you in with him."_

 _"...It's worth it."_

"Okay, fine! Let me go! I'll do it myself!" Marko snapped, shoving Dwayne away when he was finally placed on his feet. He took a deep breath and gazed down at the water just barely lapping at his clawed toes, making them sting and smoke in the night air. He was way too emotional right now to keep from changing, and his fangs were clearly in evidence. He flinched. Took a deep breath...dropped his towel...and ran screaming in the other direction while Dwayne chased him down.

"GET BACK HERE!" Dwayne shouted, in angry pursuit. If he had to dress like Baby Jane on steroids, Marko wasn't getting out of his side of the punishment.

* * *

Edgar and Alan sat together on a large hay bale in the bed of a large rusted Chevy, glaring down at Roxanne who sat nearby cuddling a small chicken in her arms. Several cages filled with the rest of the poultry surrounded them, and feathers wafted about as the birds clucked in their poultry language of their frustration that freedom had been taken so swiftly from them after they'd just barely had a taste of it.

"Good thing that farmer found us, huh?" Roxie squeaked, picking up the chicken in her arms and trying to rub her nose on it's beak. The bird madly struggled in her arms, bawking in protest. "Okay, okay...calm down, Kentucky..." She lowered the bird into her lap and rubbed it's head. In exchange for helping him gather up the remainders of his poultry, the chicken farmer had offered them a ride and even given Roxanne one bird to take home.

"Alan," Edgar grunted.

"What?" Alan turned to look at his brother, reaching forward to pluck a bit of hay from the other boy's hair.

"This is the shittiest summer...ever."

"You're both totes weird. This is like...the best!" Roxie disagreed vehemently, "isn't that right, Kentucky?" Her chicken was inclined to agree with the Frog brothers.


	15. Chapter 15: Mr Bubble

Michael dug through the various boxes and bags crammed together in the shed. He didn't have much when they'd moved to Santa Carla, so he didn't have much searching to do before he found a box of his shoes at the very bottom of the pile.

"You need any help, Mike?" Sam asked warily, leaning against the door of the shed with his hands locked together behind his back. He wasn't being very helpful. But right now his mind was being fueled by uncomfortable thoughts about his brother and the possible romance between Mike and that spiky-haired asshole.

"No, Sammy. I'm fine." Michael growled, barely able to contain his agitation. He was trying to focus on his box of shoes, as he picked through and sorted out exactly which he should take with him back to the cave. Cracked brown work boots didn't seem like they'd go very well with his leather jacket, and cleats would just look ridiculous.

"...Mike, I really want to know how you got turned. I _need_ to know." Sam finally just came out with it. He'd definitely prepared himself for the worst.

"You really wanna know, Sammy?" Michael glanced up at his brother as he finally managed to find another pair of sneakers. They were in much better condition than the ones he currently wore, because he hated them. They were just a little too tight, so they'd have to be broken in. But it was better than nothing, he supposed, as he kicked off his shoes and sat down on a larger box to begin unlacing the newer pair.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "I really do. I just...I just...I need to know."

"Okay, first thing's first, then...I can read your mind." Michael shot Sam a glare, "and I do _not. Fondle. **Corpses**_."

Sam was taken aback, letting his jaw drop as he began to stammer, "you...you can r-...you can read minds?! Like all of them? Like...all the stuff I've been thinking all night since you got here?!"

Michael shrugged, looking back down at his foot as he begun tying the laces on one of the shoes as he slipped it on. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You didn't ask."

There was a long silence while Michael finished pulling on the other shoe and making sure they were both tied. Then when he was satisfied, he stood up and crossed the shed towards Sam, and grabbed him by the collar, "and you're not telling mom a damn word about this, alright?"

Sam nodded quickly, grabbing at his brother's hands and pushing them away, "so did you like...just...stage that guy's death and run off with him then, when we were all sleeping?!"

Michael snorted and rolled his eyes. "No. Trust me. I thought he was pretty fucking dead," he ran a hand through his hair and stepped back from Sam. He really hadn't wanted to get into this. But if he was going to come visit his family and talk to them again, he supposed he'd have to finally open up and at least give them a few details about what happened. Or, as Sam pretty much just proved, they'd probably try to fill in the missing pieces on their own in a pretty twisted way. Seriously...a gay vampire sleeping beauty?!

"Then...what happened, Mike?" Sam reached forward to put a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I gotta know."

"I just..." He really... _really_ didn't want to say it. Because it would only make Sam feel worse, and probably mom by association if he opened his fat mouth and spilled the beans. "I was sleeping, right? And then I woke up, and he was on top of me, and-"

"Okay, okay...you don't gotta tell me _everything,_ Mike!" Sam squeaked, pulling his hand away and preparing to block out his ears.

Michael reached forward and pinched Sam's neck, making him give out a small yelp. "He didn't screw me, Sam."

Sam rubbed at his neck, frowning, "well...what did he do?"

"He basically gave me two choices, okay? I could either yell and wake everyone up, getting you all killed...or...I could just let him turn me. And you'd all be safe." He shrugged, letting his shoulders slump. It felt good to finally come out with the truth, but...

"Then...why didn't you just kill him later when his back was turned, or something? Why didn't you fight, Mike?!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Michael crossed his arms, eyes flashing gold. Digging this story up was just beginning to put him in a bad mood, and being talked to like it was somehow his fault by his obnoxious little brother wasn't helping, either. And he _had_ tried killing David at first. Multiple times. But every time, he'd either get caught in the act (and taught a pretty violent lesson), or...he'd just...back down. It was really difficult to put into words. He wasn't sure he even wanted to try.

Sam leaned back into the doors of the shed and slid down to the ground, crossing his legs in front of him. "Okay, I'll stop. I just...I'm just trying to make sense of all this shit, Mike. I don't get why you'd run off with a vampire and ignore us for a whole year, okay?" The fact that he'd apparently let himself be turned to protect them did make Sam calm down a little, though. He'd had no idea...and now he was beginning to feel a little guilty about how he'd talked to Michael earlier that night when he finally managed to drop by for a visit. Maybe he'd been avoiding them because he knew Sam was going to react exactly the way he did...

Michael turned back towards the boxes and bags of his things and knelt down to begin digging through them again. Maybe he'd take a few other things back to the cave. Some extra shirts, jeans, etcetera. While he pretended to focus on the task, he took a deep breath and focused on calming himself. He didn't want to lose his temper. He didn't want to do something like lash out at Sam just because he had a big mouth. Mom was right...Michael did have trouble controlling himself. Nowadays, more than ever. "It's hard to explain. I'm not human anymore, Sam. Things are just...different. After I drank David's blood and got forced to make my first kill, almost everything about me changed. The things I wanted became more important, to the point that I don't even really care if I have to slit someone's throat to get it. And, David..." Michael just shook his head. "David wanted me. So he got me. And there's nothing I _could_ or _can_ do about it. Because there's something in the blood between us...I don't know. It just...it makes me care about him. In a really weird...fucked up way..." He wasn't going to go into detail about all the little things. The fact that David could influence him as his maker, or the fact that he'd gotten used to it, even enjoyed it despite himself. Sam didn't need to know about that part.

For awhile, there wasn't any noise in the shed other than the faint rustling of clothes as Michael dug out what he wanted to bring with him. He avoided looking at his younger brother, even avoided listening in on his thoughts. He wasn't sure if he could handle finding out what they might be right now. The good mood he'd had earlier that night when he'd come to visit his family for the first time since he'd turned had been utterly destroyed, and now all that was left was a deep bitterness as he had been forced to think back on the night he'd tried to bury in his memories. But he couldn't blame Sam for his reactions. That didn't change the fact that it still hurt, though.

"Mike..."

Michael pulled his head up and looked back towards his little brother, astonished to see him walking forward to kneel down beside him. "Thanks for protecting us." And before he could think, Sam threw his arms around him and hugged his brother as tightly as he could manage. "Now don't get any gay thoughts or nothing about this..." Sam quickly added, partially ruining the moment.

Michael hugged him back. "You're a little pervert, you know that?"

* * *

Star listened quietly, hiding in the shadows beneath the boxes Michael dug through. She'd gained a bit of insight tonight, and was able to understand everything that had happened just a little more. It didn't change the fact that whatever she was going to have to do would only end up hurting him even more, though. She was glad to know Michael hadn't left them of his own free will...but she didn't like to hear him talking about David. _David..._ she wanted to snarl. She still hated him. Maybe now more than ever. Now she could happily lay half the blame of her death at David's feet just as well as Max's, and Michael was the victim caught in the crossfire.

Slowly she drew away from the shadows beneath the boxes and crept along the floor of the shed until she reached the door, and then as quietly as she could manage, she twisted the lock outside. It was dark enough that she knew sunlight wouldn't creep through the cracks in the morning if Michael was forced to spend the night out here, though she knew he could easily just break the door if he decided to leave. But it would stall him a little bit, and in the meantime...she could try and figure out another plan to keep him there.

As she thought this, a large rusted Chevy pulled into the driveway, and three figures climbed out of the back, plucking feathers from their clothes and shaking themselves out.

"I'm gonna need a shower after this," Edgar complained. He really hated showers.

"Tell me about it," Alan agreed. "And we're gonna have to wash our clothes, too..."

"That was fun! Mondo crazy, eh?" Roxie chirped, hefting her chicken under her arm as it bawked in protest while the Chevy drove away. "Hey, Kentucky...you wanna take a bath with me, girl?" She giggle-snorted and shoved her sunglasses higher up on the bridge of her nose as she looked down at her new pet. "I think there's some Mr. Bubble under the bathroom counter...Killer loves that stuff. Y'know, one time, we were like...full-on getting hot and heavy on the bathroom sink, right? And so I ask him if he's got any lotion..." she began to explain a somewhat graphic story about soap flakes to the Frog brothers, who hadn't asked, and were too shocked to tell her to stop. They were learning a lot more about Sam tonight than they'd ever wanted to know.

Star watched the trio, and grew excited. Maybe she'd be able to keep Michael here overnight after all...

Sam shouted from inside the shed, "ROXIE! THEY DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THAT!" He began violently jiggling the shed door handle, and it wasn't budging.

"Sam, how the hell did you manage to lock us in here?!" Michael demanded, kicking at the door.

"It wasn't me!"


	16. Chapter 16: Trapped in the Shed

Dwayne drug Marko from the water, careful to avoid the salt spray as the waves rolled into the shore. Of course, it was nearly impossible, and a drop or two did end up hitting him on his exposed skin, causing it to sizzle and burn, but he didn't have nearly as much damage done to him as the smaller vampire squealing in his arms, barely conscious.

"Paulie...gonna pay...for this..." Marko gasped out when Dwayne had finally managed to drag him far enough from the water that the surf was no longer in danger of reaching up to lap at his feet. Then he unceremoniously dropped him and reached for the discarded towel nearby. The whole time, Paul and David watched from a distance, passing a laced cigarette back and forth and laughing with each other.

"They're going to pummel your ass so hard when this is over," David smirked, letting a puff of smoke drift out of the corner of his mouth and leaning back on his elbows to relax in the sand.

"Yeah, so I'd better enjoy this while it lasts," Paul retorted, not missing the angry glares being sent his way from Dwayne and a half-delirious Marko as he tried to towel himself off. His fingers struggled to grasp tightly enough on the fabric to be very effective.

 _"You went way too far,"_ Dwayne whispered in Paul's mind.

 _"Be careful about what you do to us next, Paulie, you just might regret it,"_ Marko added, ominously.

 _"Why, what's gonna happen?"_ Paul retorted, crossing his arms and sitting up straight. He wasn't scared. After his romp with Star, he was still enjoying the high of being the undefeatable sex king. There was nothing he couldn't handle.

 _"Oh...you'll see..."_ Marko snickered, flinching slightly. The welts were beginning to go down, and it wasn't nearly as painful as his quick sun bathing incident the other day, but it still hurt. A lot.

Dwayne and Marko exchanged a secret smile, their thoughts flying back and forth between each other, blocked off from Paul. But David broke into a grin as he listened in.

"What are they saying?" Paul poked David's shoulder.

"I don't know. Maybe you should ask them?" David drawled. "But hey, you've still got 6 nights left to enjoy yourself. I'd say you might wanna pray they last a little longer, huh?"

Paul scowled, frustrated that there was some kind of plan he wasn't in on. It took some of the fun out of his bitch bet. Well, then...he'd just have to make sure he enjoyed this to it's fullest, if they were gonna be dicks about it. "Look, Marko...Dwayne...I'm sorry. I should've realized you'd be hungry after this, but I didn't bring anything to eat. Why don't we all go on a picnic together? I think those Surf Nazis are having a party on the beach tonight. Let's see if they'd like to have a little tea party?" He grinned viciously, flashing his fangs.

"Marko, this is going to be a formal affair. Why don't you go slip into one of those old dresses we got in the clothes pile?" He added, referring to the storage room they kept all of the trinkets and junk they collected from their victims when they had take-out. "I'll even do your make-up for you, sweety."

David just shook his head, "It was nice knowing ya, Paul."

* * *

Edgar straightened his spine, batting at his ear as if some sort of bug was hovering around it, buzzing incessantly. "Did...did you hear that?" He looked back and forth between his brother and Roxanne, who was too focused on her chicken to have heard him. She'd knelt down and was trying to feed it a blade of grass...which wasn't very effective. The bird clearly had an intense sense of claustrophobia, and she was on the verge of smothering it in her arms.

"Hear what?" Alan looked back towards the shed, scowling, "you mean Sam...and..." his eyes widened. "The bloodsucker!"

"That wasn't...that wasn't what I meant...but..." Edgar blinked, then broke into a dark smirk as the look of confusion faded from his face. "Good job, Sam! You got one of them right where we want him!"

There was a long pause as Michael and Sam bickered inside the shed, "you're not staking my brother, Ed!" Sam finally shouted as Michael kicked at the shed door again.

"Let us out of here, or I'm going to beat the shit out of both of you!" Michael quickly added, beginning to panic. He didn't want to have to tear the door open and leave a legacy of destruction every time he came back to visit his family, but he didn't want to be stuck in there all night either. Not that sleeping in the shed would make much of a difference, he was sure he could manage...but he suspected David's patience with his little brother only stretched so far.

"You don't scare me, death-breath!" Edgar shouted back, rushing towards the porch and diving into the house. Alan looked back at the shed, and then towards where his brother had run. He had two options right now...follow Edgar, and do whatever it was that his brother decided was best...or the smart thing, and let Michael out of the shed before he vamped out on them and tried to tear their throats out.

Minutes later, when Alan had disappeared inside the house and Roxie followed closely so she could make a phone call to her family about the car, Sam and Michael were left alone inside the shed to their own devices.

Together, Michael and Sam slid down against the shed door and slumped to the ground in unison.

"Sam..." Michael sighed, putting his head in his hands.

"...Mike?"

"If you ever invite those two little assholes over again, I don't care what mom says, or how bad they smell, _I'm eating them_."

"...I wouldn't blame you." Sam shrugged.

"I think I've got a deck of cards in one of those boxes over there. You wanna play something while we wait for them to come back?" Michael suggested, standing up and crossing back towards his things. He'd give them three rounds of poker before he lost his temper. That should be more than enough time to realize they were gonna be in deep shit if they didn't let him out. Surely the Frog brothers couldn't be _that_ stupid.

* * *

Lucy pulled the casserole out of the oven slowly, setting it on top of the stove and removing her oven mitts. It smelled heavenly. Corn, bacon, eggs...oh dear...she'd used garlic butter in the crust. Could Michael eat garlic? She'd have to ask him when he came back inside. Speaking of which, they'd been out there for quite some time. And where were Sam's little friends? As she thought this, a clicking sound interrupted her thoughts, and she spun about to see Roxanne walking into the kitchen with a chicken tucked under her arms.

"Roxanne? Why do you have a chicken? And what kept you kids out so late?" She asked, concerned. "It's dangerous to be out after dark. I'm not sure your parents would appreciate you putting yourself in harm's way like that." Lucy crossed her arms.

Roxanne shrugged, "sorry, Ms. Emerson. We got into a bit of an accident, and had to hitch a ride back. Can I use your phone to call my dad?"

"I think that would be best."

"Thanks."

Roxanne walked over to the kitchen sink and reached for the phone hanging on the wall nearby, pulling it off the hook so she could dial her parent's number. As she shouldered the phone in one hand, she held out her chicken to Lucy, "do you mind holding Kentucky for me?"

Lucy raised her eyebrows and slowly reached out to take the bird from her. She was a little confused right then, but decided it best not to ask any more questions. The girl tended to raise more of them when she answered any, from what Lucy recalled on her past visits with Sam.

"Hi, daddy! No, I didn't. No. No, I'm still wearing my shoes. Yes...yes. No. Oh, there was a break-in at Old Gregg's farm. Old Gregg. The guy who's always buying out all the Bailey's at Jefferson's. Yes. Yes. Yes, he did. Don't worry, I'll house-break it. Uhuh. No, it's in a ditch right now. Yes. No. Okay. Alright. Aliens. Yes, aliens. No, I'm not lying, daddy. It's true! Okay. About an hour. Got it. Yeah, there's some bricks and chalk in the trunk. I got mega awesome plans for them. No, it's totes legal. I promise. Hey, I said I was sorry already! Well, grandma's dead now, so like...she shouldn't be upset about it anymore. Well...like...that's her problem." She giggle-snorted, rubbing at her nose as she did.

Lucy couldn't help but wonder what on earth the other side of Roxanne's phone conversation sounded like as she placed the chicken in the sink slowly, and dusted her apron with a kitchen towel where bits of white fluff and feathers had rubbed off. She jerked back towards the doorway at the sound of rushing feet, but just barely missed the sight of Edgar and Alan with their bags strapped to their backs, and grease pain smeared on their cheeks.

Edgar paused, and backed up, peeking around the door, "smells good, Ms. Emerson. Hey, listen...Sam wasn't feeling good, so he went to bed."

"...What about Michael?" Lucy frowned, confused. Sam had seemed just fine when they went outside earlier.

Alan crept up to Edgar's side and raised his eyebrows. "You know he's here?" Edgar elbowed him, "I mean...was?" He coughed a little, rubbing at his stomach.

"Well, of course I did. We invited him over. Did he leave?" Lucy threw her towel on the counter, frustrated.

"He said something came up," Edgar grunted, covering quickly. If Lucy knew he was out there, this was going to be a lot tougher. She didn't truly understand what vampires were capable of. They had no room in their hearts for anything but blood and murder. There was nothing of Michael left inside him, and explaining that to Lucy wouldn't be an easy task.

"...Did he say he when he'd be coming back?" Lucy wrung her hands together. She'd hoped to spend a little more time with him tonight. Hadn't expected him to leave so early! He'd just gotten there, and they'd hardly said more than two words to each other.

"...No." Edgar replied, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and jerking him away from the doorway so they could go outside and keep guard over their captive. He didn't want to have to break it to Lucy that he was probably going to have to deal with her blood-sucking son to protect America. He was doing it for her own good. He only hoped she could forgive him, some day...

Roxanne gently hung up the phone, drawing Lucy's attention back to her for the time being. "Ms. Emerson, can I stay over another night? Dad has to tow my car back to the house, since I drove it into a ditch and all..."

"I suppose so," Lucy sighed. "But I'm leaving in the morning, so he'll have to pick you up early. I don't think dad wants four teenagers running around the house while I'm gone. I'm sure you understand."

"Totes. Those friend's of Sam's are like...mondo nuts." Roxanne agreed, shaking her head.

* * *

Author's notes: Mighty Boosh reference inserted. I can die happy, now.


	17. Chapter 17: Bonfire of the Biker Tease

Author's notes: I love Sundays. Gives me so much time to write. Here's a second chapter of the day for you guys. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Freddy sat beside the bonfire, drinking a beer and nestling close to his arm candy. That fight they'd had with those asshole bikers left him and his gang feeling like complete shit. They'd spent the whole day nursing their wounds at home rather than out surfing the waves. He took a gulp of his beer and threw his head back, "gonna teach them a lesson when we get those little bitches cornered. You just watch us, babe," he squeezed his girlfriend's rear, causing her to squeak a little and slap him on the chest playfully.

"They just caught you on an off day, it's okay baby. You'll get them back," she cooed, reaching up to stroke the side of his face. He jerked a little, the side of his head still tender and aching. They'd been pummeled pretty bad, and it pissed him off to think that between them, it took only 2 men to bring down him and his 3 other pals who'd been with him getting their ink touched up. But it didn't matter, because there were plenty more. Eight in all, tonight, lounging around the bonfire, to be precise. All they had to do was ask around on the boardwalk later to find out where those little biker bitches hung out when they weren't cruising the streets, and he'd make sure none of them ever fucking walked again.

"Wouldn't have happened if you weren't shoving your tits in his face," Freddy grumbled, shoving his girlfriend away. He knew the game she was playing. And what happened? He ended up looking like a pansy. Got his ass handed to him by a guy half his size. A _teenager_ , for Christ's sake. A kid who didn't even have hair on his balls ten years ago. Then the rest of them by another one who didn't even look like he could lift weights, let alone throw one of them through a shop window.

"Aw, honey...you know I just wanted you to look at me," she protested, trying to crawl over and slide onto his lap. Freddy just pushed her away and stood up, squeezing his beer can in his hand and throwing it behind him. He was just so damned frustrated right now, and until he recovered a bit more, he wasn't going to really be able to work it out properly.

"Relax, Freddy. Have another beer, huh?" Jake shouted from where he was adjusting the radio and flipping through the stations until he found something good to rock out to. He was the only one of them who'd stayed in the tattoo parlor to get his ink finished, and was in much better condition for all his troubles.

"You know what? You're a dick, Freddy." The girl stood up, dusting off her leather pencil skirt and marched off through the sand, throwing her middle finger over her shoulder.

"Yeah, whatever, Mary. Same to you!" Freddy shouted after her.

Meanwhile, the Lost Boys had parked their bikes off some distance, and were comfortably watching the display from the safety of the darkness just on the outer edges of the glowing bonfire. It hadn't been easy for Dwayne and Marko, riding in dresses, but they'd managed. And between them, they were even managing to keep cool faces. Paul wanted them to react to his stupid punishments. So they'd agreed together to act as nonchalant about it as possible, take some of the fun out of it for him. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on his bike, glaring at them both.

"You're being dicks," he grumped, fuming.

Dwayne shrugged and climbed off of his bike, " _you said this was my color. Maybe I'm starting to agree._ "

Paul turned his face towards David, frowning, " _tell them to stop, Davey! They're taking all the fun out of it!_ "

" _I can't change how they feel, Paul. If they've decided they like getting in touch with their feminine sides, that's their affair,_ " David replied, smirking. He wasn't going to be dragged into this stupid game the boys were playing.

Marko jerked forward, a grin forming on his face, as the Surf Nazi skank came blindly marching in their direction. She didn't even notice them on their bikes. Nothing better than a lover's quarrel to make their prey that much easier to chase down.

 _"Who gets first dibs?"_ He looked back at the rest of the boys gleefully. He was in the mood for a bit of action. Marching around in a frilly skirt made him feel like he had to re-assert his masculinity in some way. This was the perfect opportunity. The mascara and lipstick Paul had smeared all over his face didn't improve matters much. But he was following Dwayne's advice, and refrained from even reacting when he'd been forced to sit and let Paul have his way with the make-up brush.

"This one's mine," David said aloud, sliding off of his bike and gliding towards the girl in the darkness. She drew to a stop, squinting when she caught the flash of fang and glittering earring in the shadows.

"Who's out there?" She demanded, taking a step back, "whoever you are, don't...don't fuck with me! My man's right back there at that bonfire, and he'll cut you ear to ear!" Her voice quavered as she tried to draw herself up and put on a front. There'd been a lot of members of their gang picked off over the years on the beach, and she didn't want to be added to the number.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you," David teased, his voice a sly whisper as he approached her, tucking a cigarette into his lips and pausing to light it.

"F...Fre-" she licked her lips, taking in deep breaths, trying to summon the strength to scream, "FRED-" in an instant, David was behind her, clamping a gloved hand to the girl's mouth, pulling her up close to his chest and pinning her arms behind her.

"Now, now, my boys are about to go have a nice little surprise party with your boyfriend. You wouldn't want to ruin it, would you?" He teased, leaning down and dragging a tongue across her neck. She tried to struggle, but his grip was unbelievably firm. Kicking her heels in the sand, she whimpered, losing a shoe in the process and sending it sailing through the air until it landed stiletto-side up.

David looked up at Paul and met his eyes, jerking his head towards the bonfire, _"go ahead, Paulie. Start the show. I'm going to just hang out over here and get a little better acquainted with this one."_

Marko pouted, crossing his arms, " _save some for me, alright_?"

 _"I'll do my best,"_ David replied, noncommittally. He wasn't going to, of course. Marko knew damned well David didn't like to share.

In a flash, Paul was sailing towards the bonfire, grinning maniacally. Pretend all they liked, there was no way Dwayne and Marko were going to keep straight faces for this little game. It was just too good.

"The fuck?!" Freddy shouted, standing up and tossing his beer can to the ground as he saw Paul draw up into the blazing light of the bonfire, looking for all the world like some kind of demented leather-wearing imp.

"Hello boys, mind if I join in on the fun?" Paul asked, throwing his arm around one of the Surf Nazi's shoulders. The fatter guy Marko had punched out and thrown through a window, to be precise. It amazed Paul the man could even heft his bulk onto a surf board, apparently.

"You're asking for it!" Freddy pointed a finger at Paul, gesturing for Jake and the others to surround him. Paul drew away, holding up his hands in front of him in mock terror.

"Oh no, please! Don't hurt me! I just came here to join you guys! I'm tired of being with the Lost Boys. They're always trying to show off and pick on the locals, and all I really wanna do is catch some waves! I didn't know what I was getting into when I started hanging around them, man." He pleaded, putting on quite a convincing little act.

"Oh yeah?" Freddy sneered, drawing towards the group and stepping through their tightly-drawn circle to stand in front of Paul, "and what makes you think we're not just gonna beat the shit out of you right here and now, huh? Coming out here all alone, you think you got any chance of anyone hearing you screaming? You're one dumb mother fucker, you know that?"

He may not be in the best shape right now, but between them all, Freddy was more than happy to have this prissy little biker fall right into his lap. Maybe they'd get to pick off the others later, too, after they dealt with this one.

 _"Cut the shit, Paulie, and hurry this up,"_ Dwayne sighed, still hidden in the shadows beside Marko as they drew away from their bikes to get a little closer to the bonfire to make their big debuts.

 _"Gimme a minute, okay? I just wanna get them good and worked up first,"_ Paul replied, as he widened his eyes and spun about. Acting as if he realized for the first time that he'd made the ultimate mistake of approaching these big bad surfing bitches without so much as a weapon to defend himself.

"Look, okay...I can tell you where they hang out. Where they live. You just gotta promise me you won't hurt me...that you'll let me join your gang," Paul proposed, taking a step back from Freddy. He was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"What makes you think we'll believe you, huh? Or that you're man enough to be one of the Surf Nazis?" Freddy demanded, sounding just as predictable as Paul expected he would. Shit, it was like these guys read all their lines from some b-grade after school special script.

Paul lowered his head, acting as if he were at a loss for words, his hair hanging down and covering his face. "Well...I don't...you see...the thing is..."

"Well? The fuck are you gonna say?" Freddy crossed his arms, sneering.

"What makes you think the Surf Nazis are man enough for me?" Paul snapped his head up, fangs dripping with saliva and eyes glowing gold in the flames of the bonfire. Freddy shouted, drawing back, and before he could break out from his circle of panicking friends, Paul lashed out and pulled him forward, digging claws into his bulging neck and squeezing until his eyes began to bulge from their sockets.

"You're right, it probably wouldn't have worked," Paul feigned a sigh of disappointment, giving a good yank and snapping Freddy's neck in his hand before he tossed his lifeless body to the ground and looked up at the panicking Surf Nazis who remained, scrambling to get away. He loved playing the victim. It always made them taste so much better when he turned the tables on his prey. The taste of shock in their blood was delicious. Almost as good as the fear.

 _"Hey, bring them back for our little tea party, wouldja?"_ Paul batted his eyes into the darkness in Marko and Dwayne's direction, and they reluctantly drew closer to reveal themselves.

* * *

Three rounds of poker in, and the Frog brothers were still keeping guard on the shed door, with no signs of letting Sam and Michael out any time soon. Roxanne, meanwhile, was playing with her pet chicken inside, likely taking a bath while all the boys were distracted. Of all the times she could have picked to keep her nose out of their business, it had to be when Sam was trapped in a shed with his vampire brother.

"You're just making this worse for yourselves," Michael growled, tapping on the door beside him, and picking up the deck to begin shuffling it. He'd imagined enough scenarios by now of ripping their throats out, licking the blood up as it stained his fingers, and tossing their mangled body parts into the ocean...that he'd actually managed to calm himself down somewhat. It was almost disturbing to realize a little over a year ago, he'd have thought himself clinically insane with those kinds of fantasies bouncing around in his mind. And now it was basically just memories of a Sunday night dinner.

"Shut up, bloodsucker! The minute you try and break that door down, we'll be ready for you!" Edgar shouted back, shifting on his feet and pacing in front of the shed. Alan marched from the opposite side, helping him keep watch. They had stakes tucked under one arm, spray bottles of holy water clenched in the others like guns. The second the vampire tried to get outside, they'd take turns spritzing him down until they sent him howling back inside. Course, they didn't know what they'd do when the others showed up later looking for him, but they'd worry about that later. First thing was first, they had to cull the pack. Sam wasn't in his right mind right now. He was too sentimental. Didn't understand that the thing he was in the shed with right now wasn't his brother anymore. Just some thing wearing his brother's skin.

"So, Alan," Michael called conversationally, dealing out cards to himself and his brother evenly, "what was it like wetting the bed until you were 12?"

"WHAT?!" Alan exclaimed, spinning around to face the door.

Michael smirked to himself, glancing up at Sam, who looked a little worried. Possibly because he was showing a little bit more of his darker side than he should, but he'd had enough. The prank at the cave should have put the Frogs in their place, but clearly it didn't. He was tired of playing nice. It wasn't even in his nature, anymore. He'd only been going easy on them for Sam, but clearly they needed to learn things the hard way.

"C'mon Mike, don't scare them like that..." He pleaded.

"Quiet, Sam." Michael glared at him. He wasn't mad at his little brother anymore, but this had to stop before it went too far. He should be grateful to Alan, though. If it hadn't been for those idiotic thoughts the kid was having about him back at the cave, he might not have fully caught on to mind-reading like he did. He'd gotten a lot of practice in, come to think of it, with the Frog brothers and Sam. It was like listening to a radio sitcom.

"How did you know about that?!" Alan whispered, leaning in towards the shed door.

"Same reason I know you touch yourself to pictures of Betty Rubble," Michael sneered. "It's all in your head...you're a sick little pervert, you know that?"

"Don't listen to him, Alan! It's a trick! He's just trying to mess with your head!" Edgar rounded on his brother.

"Well, he's doing a pretty good job of it!" Alan snapped back, stepping away from the shed. He was definitely getting more scared, now. What else had Michael found out about him?

"You have no idea, kid. _No. Idea._ Oh, by the way, Edgar, if you even think of trying to touch my mom or look at her ass again...I'll rip you a new one," Michael tossed out towards the other Frog brother, a little more heatedly this time. The shit he'd seen in Edgar's head about Lucy was enough to put him off eating for a whole year.

"Mike!" Sam yelped.

"What?!"

"...It's your turn. Are you raising or not?"

"Oh. Yeah..." Michael frowned back at his cards. "I fold."

Sam leaned towards his brother, smirking, "thanks for that...I didn't want to have to talk to Ed about mom..." He whispered. Really. It wasn't a conversation he wanted to get near with a ten-mile pole. Some things were just better left repressed.

"Last chance to let me out, kids. So what's it gonna be?" Michael called out, picking up Sam's cards and shuffling the deck back together. He really hoped they'd do this the easy way. Grandpa wasn't going to be happy about the shed door if they didn't.

"...You...You..." Edgar stammered, straightening up, drawing in every ounce of courage he could muster, "...You can go to hell, death-breath!"

Michael grinned, flashing his fangs, and Sam scrambled back in shock. It was one thing to know his brother was a shit-sucking vampire, or maybe even see his eye color change a bit...but to see the full-on change...shit!

"Guess that answers that question," Michael hissed, climbing to his feet.

* * *

Paul relaxed on his beach chair, clutching his prey to his chest, licking his lips at the thought of how delicious this meal was going to be. Nearby, Marko sat in the fat Surf Nazi's lap, reluctantly stroking his hair, and Dwayne held the one by the radio in his own lap, because he was much to large to do it the other way around.

"I'm so glad you girls decided to bring your fiancees home to meet us at long last," Paul cooed, shifting and squeezing his victim about the throat just enough to cause the man to gurgle and screech out as he struggled for breath.

"..." Dwayne closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath, "yes, _daddy_ , we hope you like them." Pretend all he liked, there was no way Dwayne was able to hide his disgust at this little game of house he and Marko were being forced to play. He just had to grin and bare it, though. Paul was only going to make this worse for himself later if he kept it up, after all.

"How about you, _Marko-line_ , how did you meet your beau?" Paul directed his attention to Marko, who just rolled his eyes as he dug his claws into his victim's scalp, wringing a cry from the man's lips. The few survivors they were clinging to right now were far too terrified to struggle or try to run, now. And at this point, David was much closer, having finished his own meal. So it wasn't like they had anywhere to run, anyway.

"I met him on Venus," Marko grumbled.

"Venice. _You met him in Venice_. Stick to the script!" Paul snapped back.

"This is stupid," Marko replied, "I'm not doing this anymore."

"Are you telling me you're going back on the bet?" Paul raised his eyebrows, "You know what happens when you break a bitch bet, Marko-line."

"Fuck. Fine. I met him in Venice. You happy? I met him in Venice, and we're in love, and I'm having his baby. _Now can we fucking end this stupid shit show_ , **please**?!"

Paul paused in thought, scratching at his chin, "no. Not yet. _Dwaynette_ , what are your plans for your honeymoon together?"

 _"Oh, for fuck's sake,"_ Dwayne rolled his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18: A Warning

Author's notes: Even Michael only has so much patience.

* * *

He wasn't going to kill them. No matter what he did in the next ten minutes, Michael had to firmly remind himself that he _wasn't going to kill them_. Doing that would likely go beyond just pissing off his little brother and his mom, and he'd like to think he could be welcome for another visit in the future if David didn't make a big fuss about it.

"Sammy, you're gonna want to close your eyes for this and cover your ears," he turned towards his little brother, smiling as pleasantly as he could manage. The effect was somewhat twisted by his dripping fangs, but Sam didn't argue. For once in his life.

"Just...please don't kill them, Mike. Please." He whimpered, slamming his hands over his ears and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Michael rolled his eyes and turned back towards the shed doors, lightly scraping a claw around the handles until he'd carved a nice little circle to guide himself. And then his fist punched through the metal like rice paper, and he was tearing it inward until he was satisfied he'd completely eviscerated any evidence of handles or locks. Outside, Alan and Edgar stumbled back, taken by surprise. They dropped their stakes as they tried to fiddle with their spray bottles to give him a good dousing of holy water. But Michael was too quick. In an instant he had the doors slammed open, and he lunged at them, tearing the bottles from their hands and tossing them aside. Then, grinning madly, because this little scuffle was beginning to draw the blood lust out (despite the fact that he was still reminding himself _not_ to kill them), he dug his hands into their shirts until he got good fistfuls of cloth, and pulled them along with him as he went flying into the air.

Alan and Edgar struggled against his grip, with little success. Screaming and squirming, they both sent out mental prayers to anyone upstairs who might be listening. When Michael was satisfied that they were at a sufficient height to splatter both boys on the ground if his grip on them should slip, he gave them a good shake to shut them up. The screaming was giving him a bit of a headache. Normally at this point, he would have torn a throat out already to silence it.

"Listen, you little fucks. I'm getting tired of this shit. Do you understand me?"

Both Edgar and Alan were silent, save for the tiny whimpers they'd let out as they still struggled in his grasp. Michael gave them a good shake, and both Edgar and Alan broke out into wails once more.

" **DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME**?" He repeated, voice deep and feral now with his effort to maintain control of himself. This went beyond losing his temper. He was teetering dangerously on the edge, and only the fact that he could clearly see the house and shed from where they were served as a way to ground him and keep him from finishing it with the Frogs in a much more permanent way than just another warning.

"We understand!" Edgar cried,

"Completely! We understand completely!" Alan added, mimicking his brother.

"Okay, good," Michael hissed, "so let me make a few things clear to you both right now. I _love_ my mother. I _love_ my brother. I don't _plan_ on killing them any time soon. But I don't give a shit about either of you little pricks, and if push comes to shove, I don't have any problem with dropping you right now and licking up the bits that aren't splattered all over the lawn. You've pushed me pretty far, and frankly, you're really lucky I _am_ the nice one in my pack. Do you honestly think any of the others would have let you pull that stupid trick you tried on me in the shed tonight?"

Edgar and Alan both shook their heads violently, sobbing. They knew right now was definitely not the best time to talk, the way Michael's eyes were glowing, practically boring holes through their skulls.

Just to drive things home a little bit further, Michael kept them there for a good thirty seconds, glaring at them both, not saying a word. This was supposed to be a fun night. He was supposed to patch things up with his family, make them realize he still cared and planned to visit...and now this. Now Sam was forced to see Michael at his worst, because of his stupid little friends. It was enough to make him angry all over again just thinking about it. It would be so easy just to end this now, too. Even at the risk of destroying the last shred of humanity he had inside him. But he couldn't handle the idea of David gloating about it later, or hearing some stupid fucking speech about their 'true natures' and why 'having a human family' just wasn't possible any more. Michael squeezed his eyes shut tightly and took a deep breath, counting back from ten, like he used to do before pummeling Sam's bullies.

In a way, Ed and Alan kind of were bullies. Sure, they pretended to be Sam's friends, but frankly...the way they acted, dragging him around, ignoring half of his advice just so they could feel like bad-ass monster killers...it just made him so mad.

"Mike?" Sam shouted from below.

"Mike? Did you hurt them?" He shouted again, fear creeping back into his voice.

Slowly, very slowly, Michael began to descend with both Edgar and Alan gripped tightly by their shirts. They were at least smart enough now to realize they needed to keep quiet if they wanted to make it through this.

"So here's the plan. You tell Sam we just had a nice little talk. You _don't_ tell him what happened here. You _don't_ tell my mom. You don't tell _anyone anything_. And if you behave yourselves for the rest of the summer, I just _might_ let you come back and visit Sam next year, after I've calmed down." Michael whispered, finally releasing them about four feet from the ground, and watching the Frogs tumble to the grass, whimpering and wailing. He sneered, crossing his arms.

"Some vampire hunters," Michael just shook his head, finally placing his feet on the grass below. It was unbelievable to think that just last summer, he and Sam had placed their lives in the hands of these two kids who could barely hold their own. They were lucky grandpa was around to take care of Max. Hell, they were lucky they'd even managed to take care of Paul like they did.

Edgar and Alan crawled close together, and wrapped each other in a tight embrace. For once, too scared to talk. They'd definitely seen another side to Michael tonight they almost hadn't expected.

"Mike?" Sam repeated, peeking out from the safety of the pulverized shed door.

"Everything's fine, Sammy. Nothing to worry about. They're still in one piece. We talked it out, and they shouldn't be causing any more problems," Michael turned back to his little brother and stalked back into the shed. "But I think I should probably head out now," he added, scooping up the shirts and a couple of pants he'd selected from the boxes. He stalked back to the pile to dig out a crumpled up backpack from middle school he'd never tossed out, and shoved the clothes inside so they'd be easier to transport. He'd morphed back to his human face, but that little show he'd put on for the Frogs had drummed his hunger up. He had to go hunting now, or he wouldn't be able to control himself the next night. It was never easy waking up on an empty stomach.

"You're not gonna stay for dinner?" Sam frowned, glancing back over to the Frogs. They looked like they'd pissed their pants, but he was glad to see they were still in one piece. So Michael really was still Michael...vampire or not. He hadn't killed them...and that went a long way to making Sam feel a bit more comfortable around him. It helped that he hadn't seen what Michael actually did do to the Frog brothers, though.

"No. I need to go. Maybe some other time," Michael shook his head.

"Like...like when?" Sam asked, getting to his feet and crossing his arms.

Michael shouldered his back pack and spun around to ruffle his little brother's hair, "maybe when your friends are gone, huh?"

Sam nodded, "yeah...that's...that's probably a good idea."

Edgar and Alan couldn't agree more.

As Michael climbed on his bike, he wondered whether or not it was really a good idea to come back. Maybe he should just go back to hiding from Sam and mom, playing the disappearing act on them when they showed up at the boardwalk. He wasn't human anymore, after all. Tonight had definitely proved that more than ever. And even if the Frogs weren't there, other things could easily happen that would make him have to show the side of himself he didn't want them to see. He glanced over his shoulder as he rode off, Sam was standing in the yard still watching him. No. He couldn't do that to them. He'd just...he'd just have to figure out better ways to control his temper. Either that, or actively have a meal _before_ he dropped by for a visit. He sighed to himself, realizing just then that he hadn't even gotten to take a bath, thanks to the little episode with Sam's friends. Damn.

* * *

Star watched Michael stalk away from the shed towards his bike, and depart. She fumed the whole time. She hadn't been able to possess Edgar, nor even take over Michael's body again. She was still exhausted from whatever little ritual Sam's insane little girlfriend had performed the other night. It had taken way too much out of her to make that monkey skull scream. She was frustrated, wished she had the physical body to tear something up then and there. Would she always be this weak, in life _and_ death? It was terrifying to think what Max might do when she went inside, if he found out she'd failed to keep Michael there overnight. Maybe she'd linger out in the yard, where she was pretty confident he couldn't get to her...

She sighed. There was an awful lot to learn about being a ghost, and Star suspected Max wasn't going to be much help at all. As she slipped through the shadows of the yard towards a porch swing Lucy had brought home, and nestled onto it, Star got the strangest feeling she was being watched. But Max was inside...wasn't he? Surely, there wasn't anyone else out here with her. He would have mentioned it.

* * *

By the time the Lost Boys had returned to the cave, sated after their meal together, Dwayne and Marko were rushing inside to change. Marko had already shredded the upper portion of his dress in his rush to destroy it completely before Paul could decide to make him sleep in it.

 _"He is going to get it when this week is over,"_ Marko hissed in Dwayne's mind.

 _"We've got to make sure those chains haven't rusted. It's been ages since we used them,"_ Dwayne agreed, pulling off his dress and 'accidentally' tossing it into one of the oil barrels, lighting it on fire 'by mistake' and slipping more kindling into the flames as he stumbled towards it.

"Ah, what a shame," Dwayne tossed up his hands, snatching up his jeans from beside the couch and shrugging them on. "I was really warming up to it, too. Sorry, Paul." He dead-panned the whole time, not even a little shaken when Paul gave him a very irate death glare. So the bastard _had_ planned on making them sleep in the dresses. Well, too bad.

"Yeah. Damn the luck!" Marko shook a fist in the air while he scooped up the remaining scraps of his dress from the ground with his other hand and tossed them into the flaming oil barrel. "Oh no. I dropped mine too. What are the odds? Two dresses in one night?" He snickered, rushing out of the lobby to go grab his actual clothes.

Paul sighed, stretching his arms above his head and dropping down on the edge of the fountain. _"That's cool. Six days to go. Still got plenty of things in mind, you don't gotta worry about that,"_ he gloated. Though there was no hiding the hint of disappointment in his voice. Clearly the dresses factored into more than one of his plans. But he could adapt. He had plenty of ideas. They didn't all have to involve cross-dressing.

David shook his head, chuckling, as he crossed towards his wheelchair and slumped down, sighing. "Michael!" He shouted. "Get in here!" There was no response.

He frowned. Michael should be back by now. It was getting close to dawn. He knew better than to stay out this late. _"Michael!"_ He called out with his mind. If his childe was in the cave, he'd easily hear the call. But nothing echoed in his mind, no reply whatsoever.

Paul shifted until he was sprawled on his side on the fountain, watching David, " _looks like he decided to run off._ " He grinned. There was nothing Paul enjoyed more than a good show. And if David and Michael were involved, he was pretty sure it would be an epic one, from what he'd already seen between them.

David sighed, drumming his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair, and glaring over at Paul, " _I'm going to give him ten more minutes. He knows better than to pull a stunt like that by now_." Surely he did. Didn't he? David had never given him this kind of freedom before to just head off on his own...would Michael just take the opportunity and try to skip town? He could easily track him down if he did, but it would still tick him off that he'd have to go that far.

Dwayne had slipped on his jacket by now and was comfortably nestled on the couch, flipping through his book, "so what is it with you two? You can't still be mad about our deaths. He helped you bring us back," he finally voiced what both he and Paul had been thinking. David was really funny about Michael.

David shrugged, " _he's mine. That's all there is to it_."

Paul snorted. " _And you think I'm nuts?"_


	19. Chapter 19: Past Curfew

Michael reclined on the beach with his arm wrapped around his victim's shoulder. Of course, she didn't see it that way. For her, he was just a nice guy who rode the Ferris wheel with her and struck up a conversation that led them on a spontaneous date together. Her curly dark hair reminded him of Star, which was why he picked her out. He tended to gravitate towards girls who resembled her in some small way. He hadn't meant for it to last this long. At first, he'd planned to simply kill her once they were alone. But he wanted to pretend he was normal, for just a little while longer. Even if it meant stringing her along. Why shouldn't she enjoy her final hours, though? She was nice. He almost felt sorry for her.

"This is incredible," the girl gasped, staring out at the rolling waves. "I didn't think I'd meet a guy like you my first day here. It's just...it's like a dream," she sighed into his chest, snuggling closer to him.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Michael asked, running a hand through her hair and smirking. He would pretend for just a little while longer. It wasn't hurting anyone. Of course, if David saw him playing lovey dovey like this, he'd probably have something to say about it. That was why Michael tended to be as quiet as possible when he brought a girl 'home' with him, or even picked one up on the hunt. There'd be less of a mess later if David lost his temper.

"Tell me about yourself, John. I want to know everything," she whispered into his chest, smiling as she kept an arm wrapped around his torso. It was best not to use his real name. Keep it as distant as possible.

"Why don't you tell me more about you, huh? I don't got much to say," Michael replied softly, fingering a lock of her hair.

"There really isn't much more I can tell you," she sighed again, "I came down here to visit my sister for the week, find out what the big deal is about California and why everyone seems to think the beaches here are so great...then I'm back to school when summer is over." She paused, "of course, I really shouldn't be out here tonight. I've heard it's pretty dangerous...never know what kinda people you can meet," she shrugged, sitting up and smiling down at him as her her fell down to frame her face and tickle at his chest. "I'm lucky I met you, huh?"

Michael set up and reached over to rub at her shoulder, smiling, "yeah...real lucky. You can trust me, though...I'll keep you safe." He squeezed her shoulder with the same hand he'd been using to stroke it, pulling her in close for a kiss. And then, gradually, he let his lips trail across her cheek, towards her neck.

"Oh!" She gasped, squeezing at the back of his jacket and pulling him close. "But...I've got a question..." she panted, as he licked at her skin, reveling in the salty sweet taste of the girl mingling with her perfume.

"Hm?" Michael asked, eyes half-closed, glowing golden, as his fangs slowly began to descend.

"What can you tell me about your pack?" She whispered sharply, and he realized one of her hands was no longer stroking at his back, but held something very sharp pressed close over his heart.

"..." Michael sighed, closing his mouth. _"Shit."_ He should have been paying more attention to her thoughts...Ugh! Why did he always let women lead him into trouble like this?!

"Oh, and I wouldn't suggest trying to kill me. My friends have been watching us for quite some time," the girl added casually, kissing his cheek. "This was almost too easy." She pulled away, keeping her stake firmly pressed against him, and Michael flinched as he felt it press a little harder against his shirt, digging into the flesh beneath.

"Haven't you ever been told it's dangerous to go out hunting alone? You must be the _dumbest_ vampire I've ever met."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bitch?" Michael retorted right back at her.

"Ouch. That really hurt," she feigned a pout, rolling her eyes. "Really, though. Thank you for making this so easy. But I hope you understand if I don't call tomorrow. I just don't think this would work out."

"Jackie!" A gruff voice shouted out towards them, and Michael jerked to look over his shoulder at a small group of men standing on a grassy knoll just overlooking the beach. "Hurry it up and bring him with us, will ya? We gotta get him locked up before he gets dusted!"

 _Jesus Christ_ , what was it with people wanting to lock him up and trap him tonight?!

* * *

Star relaxed, or at least tried to, resting on the porch swing, pondering what exactly she should do next. She would stay outside, as long as Max didn't follow her. It seemed like the best course of action. But what about the odd feeling she had? About being watched?

" _Oh dear, it certainly is getting crowded out here, isn't it_?" A soft whisper interrupted her thoughts, and Star shied away at the approach of another shadow. But it didn't have the all-encompassing darkness about it that Max carried with him inside the house. No, in fact...the grass and flowers of the garden surrounding the porch seemed to perk up as the strange shadow floated over it towards Star.

 _"...Who...who are you?"_ Star demanded, trying to draw herself into as small a shape as she could, barely the sliver of a darkened silhouette beneath the swing's dappled canopy. After what Max had done to her, she didn't want to go through another nasty experience of having a piece of her soul shaved away to prove some sort of cruel point.

 _"I'm Mrs. Emerson, my dear. Lucy's mother. And you're Star, if I recall correctly. My...it certainly was a show you put on in the kitchen last night, wasn't it? I was a little worried I'd have to deal with another monster roosting in my home. And you had been such a sweet girl before you took those pills."_

Star drew back even further from the other ghost, growing worried, " _Are you going to hurt me? For scaring your family?"_ She asked, nervous.

 _"Hurt you?"_ The old lady chuckled. _"You're young. You barely know what you are, and there's that awful man in the house who drove you to it. No, not at all. Actually, I was just going to ask if you'd like me to help you move on. After a few things are settled, of course. You were with my eldest grandson for a few days, weren't you? Please...tell me how he's doing. I've been so worried about him since he got carried away by those vampires. I do wish the rest of the men in the family were as perceptive as Herbert."_

 _"...Herbert?"_

 _"My husband. That's his first name, sweetpea. Didn't he ever tell you that?"_ She paused. " _No, I don't suppose he did. That man has always been as tight as a clam! I swear, it's a wonder we ever got married. You know, I told him to tell Lucy about those vampires running wild around the city the first day she got here. But no. He told me things would be okay as long as we didn't have any guests. And do you know what happened? He was wrong. He never listens to me...I swear, half of the trouble that happens around here is thanks to that stubborn old bastard. If I didn't love him, I tell you, I'd wring his neck...and then there's that little hussy widow who keeps ordering all of her dogs stuffed...you know, I suspect she's running them over on purpose! Just because she thinks..."_

Star relaxed a little more, growing quickly enchanted with this old woman and her stories. Soon they were nestled together on the porch swing, and though Lucy thought it odd to see it moving so wildly through the kitchen window, on a night when there wasn't even a hint of wind...she didn't pay it much attention as she went back to washing dishes while Roxanne sat at the table trying to force feed a spoonful of casserole to her chicken.

"Roxanne! That's _chicken_ casserole!" Lucy exclaimed, shocked.

"Well, like, Kentucky doesn't know that..." Roxie replied, shrugging.

Of course, neither of them could see Max's shadow slinking around the window sill, enraged as he witnessed the other spirits outside talking among each other. He'd never seen the damned old woman leave that bedroom before, and hadn't thought she'd be a problem for him. He'd have to do something, and quickly, before they caused trouble. Max stretched out his shadow until it was barely visible, and wrapped himself around Lucy, just content to feel her presence. The small woman shuddered, turning back to the young girl at the table, "Roxanne, honey, can you check the thermostat? I think our AC is acting up again."

* * *

Edgar, Alan, and Sam didn't say much as they went back inside the house together, sneaking past the kitchen door so Lucy couldn't see them. The Frogs had told her he was sleeping, and frankly, he was afraid he'd spill the beans about the fight outside if he paused to talk to her tonight or have dinner. So he'd just make himself sleep on it, and hopefully things would be better in the morning. He'd see if she'd be willing to go to the boardwalk tomorrow night and check up on Michael, while the Frogs stayed home. There was no way he could see his brother not flipping his lid if he saw them again so soon.

* * *

David nervously paced the lobby, glancing back and forth between the boys. "It's been more than ten minutes. I'm going out there," he growled, spinning towards the exit before Dwayne lashed out and grabbed at his arm.

" _It's too late to go out right now, you'll burn to a crisp within the hour. He's fine. He probably just got caught somewhere when he wasn't paying attention to the time. This is the first time you've let him out on his own, isn't it?"_

David growled, giving his smartest pack member a subtle warning. Dwayne released his grip and stepped back, not daring to challenge the leader. _"He ran away. I'm going to kill him for this,"_ David's voice rang in all their heads with a menacing air.

Marko crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, watching them. He had a funny feeling, but he couldn't quite place what it was. He'd been watching Michael and David long enough to know their youngest member wasn't _that_ stupid to push David so far. And he also seemed like he'd really finally settled into his role, so it didn't make sense that he'd just try to...sever their connection, the first chance he got. Did David really not realize that? Marko would keep his mouth shut, though, just in case Michael somehow showed up tonight. Best not to raise any warning bells before there was a good reason. Dwayne _could_ be right, after all.

Just then, Thorn entered the lobby, padding swiftly towards the entrance, focused on something outside.

"Thorn?" David called, racing towards the hell-hound and pulling the dog into his arms until they had their eyes locked. The others watched as something seemed to pass between David and Thorn, some kind of message or thought.

David's upper lip curled viciously, and he nodded, shoving the dog towards the entry, "find them," he hissed aloud, eyes glowing gold. He turned back to the rest of his pack and drew himself to his feet, taking flight towards their sleeping quarters at a startling speed, _"get some sleep, boys. We're heading out tomorrow night. Michael's been taken."_

* * *

Author's notes: Was a little reluctant to go in this direction, but it just seemed to drive itself there anyway. But glad I did. You wanted a kidnapping, Falcon. You got it. Also, hope you like this second chapter of the day. Work starts up again tomorrow, so it's going to be back to the onesies.


	20. Chapter 20: Dead Tired

Author's notes: Everyone getting all introspective and shit on this chapter. Word. Seriously, though, have you ever had sleep paralysis? Absolutely terrifying.

* * *

Sam sat on the porch swing with his dog, scratching behind the husky's ears as he watched Roxanne's dad pull out of their driveway with his girlfriend poking her head out of the passenger side window, waving at him madly and blowing kisses as fast as she could touch hand to lips. "Seeya later, Killer! I'll try ta be back tonight before sunset, okaaaaaay?" She shouted, "and totes promise I'll do a full-on house cleansing for ya, so just like...cross your fingers and hope nothin' bad happens to yer jock straps! Totes serious! You'llprobablyneedthoselaterrrrr!" She snort-giggled, rubbing at her nose and smacking her gum as they drove off.

He sighed, letting out a puff of air and settling back into the swing. Roxie was finally leaving. So all he had left were Edgar and Alan, who sat on the porch steps, quietly looking around the yard, as if they were nervous one of the vampires might make an appearance in the middle of the day to finish whatever it was Michael had started. He'd tried to weasel some details out of them, but they were stubborn. For the first time since he'd met them, the Frog brothers didn't want to say a damn thing about bloodsuckers. It was like the word had been scared out of their vocabularies.

"So, Ed...Alan...mom said you guys are going to some kinda doctor tomorrow? A head shrinker?" Sam grinned, kicking the swing back and watching for their reactions.

"He's not a head shrinker," Edgar grunted.

"He's a friend of the family. Just wants to check up on us," Alan lied. Neither of them was too happy that Lucy had decided to sign them up for a little chat with Doctor Brigson, but they didn't have much choice. It was either that, or go back home to Florida early. And no matter how terrified they might have been of Michael and the rest of the shit-sucking crew, especially now, going back to their family was a fate worse than death.

"Okay. You're going to visit a friend of the family today, cause you're both mental, then. Whatever," Sam shrugged, as Nanook sat up and yawned, placing his head back down on Sam's lap and nestling closer. With all of the chaos that had been going on lately, the poor dog felt like he'd hardly gotten any attention from his master. Hopefully after Mike's lesson last night, whatever he'd done, that wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Just then, a familiar musical horn echoed in the morning air, as Grandpa Emerson's jeep tore through the dirt road and towards the driveway. He looked like he hadn't slept all night. Sam and the Frogs leaned forward to watch him as he climbed out and began to stalk towards the porch. Then...halfway there...he paused and tilted his head to the side.

"Hmph." The old man grumbled, turning to head away from them and straight to the shed, where the door handles still lay mangled and torn up on the ground, while the area they should have been was a gaping hole between both doors. He didn't say anything, didn't shout, or turn to give them any sort of definitive angry scowl. He just stood and stared at it, turned around, and headed back towards the porch. He said nothing, very loudly, all the way up until the screen and door slammed behind him.

Edgar frowned. "I think he took it pretty well."

"Could've been worse," Alan agreed.

As for Sam, well...he was considerably paler. When grandpa didn't have anything to say, he'd learned, that was when things were about to get really bad.

* * *

Star lingered outside in the yard as she felt the old woman's presence retreat with her husband. She followed her advice, and didn't join them in the house. Max was still inside waiting, and Star had decided she'd stay well away from him until she found a way to move on. Whatever that might be. Apparently it was different for everyone, and Mrs. Emerson had no idea what sort of rules applied to suicides, or people with bodies that were still somewhat 'alive'. For all she knew, it could be something as simple as just letting go of the person she'd killed herself over...or it could be as annoyingly complicated, near impossible, as waiting for her body to expire. In the meantime, she was happy to be welcome, and the company wasn't too bad. Murderous demonic head vampire spirit lingering inside the confines of the house notwithstanding.

None of this was ideal, of course. She'd much rather be alive. She'd much rather Michael was alive too, and the rest of the Lost Boys safely buried six feet under. But that wasn't the case...and somehow, she realized, she'd have to learn to just...deal with it. Because what was the alternative? Turning into something like Max? Now that she'd been faced with exactly what that was, she definitely knew she didn't want it. Not at all.

Sighing, her breath carried on the wind as a breeze, brushing over the tall grasses and flowers of the front garden she nestled in. She watched the teenagers on the porch sit in stunned silence as Grandpa Emerson stalked into the house. Of course, they hadn't seen the old woman comforting him and telling him exactly what had happened to the shed door. It was funny thinking about it, now that she knew about Sam's grandmother. The whole year she'd spent living with the Emersons was brought into a whole new perspective. Even if he made a living stuffing pets and roadkill, Grandpa Emerson was a lot less crazy than she used to think.

* * *

Michael had never been entirely too fond of sleeping upside-down, though the nights he was able to spend in the lobby bed weren't nearly as rest-full. But he'd never been forced to face the complete alternative, sleeping on the ground of a padded cell, well away even from the comforting presence of cave soil. There was something to be said for vampires seeking rest nestled in a bed of earth from their homelands. Normally, daylight hours melted into each other in his dreamless sleep, as if he were only closing his eyes for a moment before waking to another night. But trapped in this hell-hole he'd been dragged to last night, blindfolded, held at the point of a stake and the mercy of a group of maniacs wielding crosses and holy water by the gallon, Michael had never felt so miserable.

The cell they'd tossed him in was thankfully dark, with no windows for light to creep in, and the moment the sun had finally begun to rise, he felt himself stubbornly dragged to the ground by the desperate need to sleep. Yet it wasn't a mercy to lose consciousness. Actually, he wasn't even sure he could call it that. It was like his body couldn't move, yet he was still sluggishly aware of everything around him. Through the re-enforced door of his little cell, he could hear people talking. Yet he couldn't even open his eyes or call out to them. Not that he would. Fuckers were talking about colorful ways to dispatch with him if his pack decided he wasn't worth tracking down that night. On some level, the thought actually stung. Left with nothing but his own mind to contend with, he wondered if they'd really even bother after all. What reason did David really have to come find him? Beyond just the sex and lingering sense that he needed to get vengeance for that night his brother and the Frogs had lured the boys back to the house? They were alive now, so that second part didn't seem to matter much anymore. And it wasn't like David couldn't find someone else to turn into an unwilling fuck buddy, if Michael got offed. And why was that thought bothering him so much?

If he could have sighed, or frowned, or grunted in frustration, he would have. But his body was dead to the world, and so he was forced to continue to roll these ideas around in his mind ceaselessly through the longest day in history. As much as he'd fought what he was throughout the last year, claimed he'd rather be dead, even tried to fool himself into thinking it might be better that way...he was even more frustrated that he had to come to the realization that he'd actually grown fond of his pack, in some sick and twisted way, and beyond angry that this was how he'd been forced to figure that out.

 _"God damn it, David, if you leave me here to rot...I'm going to track you down and haunt your ass. Whatever Star did to us is going to be a walk in the park compared to what I'm going to do to you!"_ Michael mentally cried out, hoping beyond hope that somehow his thought could stretch out across the city and reach his master.

* * *

Jackie leaned against the wall in her chair, arms crossed, as she kept guard outside of the vampire's cell. Her older sister paced in front of her, a remote control grasped tightly in her hands.

"Relax, Jen. There's no way that thing in there is gonna wake up before nightfall. We're covered. Just sit down and take a load off," Jackie soothed, letting her chair fall back onto all four legs with a loud clack.

"You've got no idea! That...it...he could wake up at any second, if he's worked up enough! Don't you remember what uncle Cliff said?!" Jen exclaimed, stopping her pacing to spin around and face her younger sister, arms crossed as she squeezed the remote in her hand even tighter. Inside the cell, several rows of UV lights were prepared, ready to be set off at any minute with the press of a button. The others were getting ready for tonight, if the plan worked, and all she had to do was turn the lights on if they called to tell her whether or not things fell through.

"Yeah, but that thing was _old._ You remember what Richie said. He saw this dude in there picking up trash last summer in the _middle of the day._ He's a fucking baby biter. There's no way he'll be able to wake up before six. And there's like...six inches of steel between us and him. We're fine," Jackie threw her head back and flinched when she slammed it a little too hard into the wall behind her.

Jen sighed, running her hands through her hair and taking a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Yeah...you're right. We'll be fine. I've just...I've never done this before." She paused. "Do you think Uncle Cliff is gonna bring one of the girls in for this tonight? Show off the family business?"

Jackie snorted. "Nah. His daughters are wacko. The oldest one thinks Santa Carla is crawling with _aliens_...there's no way he'd bring her here. Knowing her, she'd probably just get us all killed trying to see if those lights in there would fry an egg. Did you hear she found a random chicken in the middle of nowhere last night and decided to bring it home with her? She's insane!"


	21. Chapter 21: The Phone Call

Author's notes: Sometimes even I don't understand Roxie. So don't ask me to try and explain her thought process, because I honestly don't know.

* * *

Roxie smacked her gum, gently stroking her chicken's head as she rode in the front passenger seat beside her silent father. He didn't look like he was in too good of a mood, the way his bottom lip was twitching every time she blew a bubble. "Something bothering you, daddy?" She asked, shifting in her seat to look back at her little sister, questioningly. Audrey had decided to hitch a ride, after getting out early from ballet practice. She was 12, freckled, almost as obnoxious as Roxie, with braces and a lisp to add to it.

"He'sh been like thish all morning!" Audrey whined, slumping in her seat. "Wouldn't even buy me a popshicle!" She drummed her feet against the floorboards behind him, drawing a warning glare from the older man through the rear-view mirror.

"You're like...fat enough, chicken butt. You don't need any popsicles," Roxie snort-giggled, reaching forward to mess with the radio station knobs. Her little sister wasn't really fat, all of the baby weight had fallen off since she started her ballet classes, but that didn't stop Roxanne from poking fun at her anyway.

"I'm not fat!" Audrey protested, pulling off one of her slippers and throwing it at her older sister's head.

"Hey! Cut it out, piggie!" Roxie snapped, lifting up her chicken and shaking it menacingly. The bird twitched in her grasp, squawking and flapping until it managed to slip out of her hands and hop onto her father's lap. He gave a loud cry, swerving on the road as Roxie desperately tried to grab the maddened bird before it made them crash.

"DAMN IT, ROXANNE!" Cliff fumed, straightening out the wheel when the bird had managed to flip into the backseat beside Audrey and nestle back in a corner, safely tucked away from it's owner and her clinging false nails.

"...Like...sorry, Daddy. It was all chubster's fault," Roxanne squeaked, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and sticking her tongue out at Audrey in the backseat.

"Roxanne, you need to learn to grow up. You're fifteen years old, and you act like you're five. You stay out all hours of the night, bringing stray chickens home as pets! Every week it's something new with you. Last time, it was androids taking over the library. The week before, you thought our neighbors were werewolves, all because Mrs. Donahee has a mustache. You're lucky she didn't press charges after what you did to her poodle. Last night, you drove your car into a ditch... _again_...and now you think there are aliens around every corner. _Something's gotta give_ , young lady, and I'm going to see to it that you learn to act your age. How do you expect me to give you any kind of responsibility if you refuse to grow up?"

Roxanne slumped in her seat, crossing her arms. " ** _There are aliens in Santa Carla_.**.." She mumbled under her breath. " ** _Mondo weird ones...I saw them myself_. _And they drink spoiled Clamato_**."

"Roxie'sh a baaaaaaby, Roxie'sh a baaaaaby," Audrey taunted from the backseat.

"Shut up, chubster!" Roxanne rounded on her sister, who frowned at her and brandished the other ballet slipper threateningly.

* * *

As the morning hours ticked away, Star lingered on the porch swing, worried for some reason she couldn't understand. Granted, she'd been worried about one thing or another for a majority of the time she'd spent in Santa Carla, both dead and alive, so it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling. Part of her wondered if the only reason she might be feeling this way at all was because she didn't know how to really relax anymore.

" _Something on your mind_?" Grandma Emerson floated through the front door, the thin silhouette of an old woman. Without anyone nearby to see them, she didn't worry about showing herself. In fact, she very much enjoyed taking on a semblance of her living shape, as she settled down beside Star. The gypsy girl obliged her by forming into her own silhouette as well, and they kicked off from the ground so the swing could gently lull them back and forth together.

 _"I have a bad feeling,"_ Star replied, feeling silly to voice it aloud. Bad feelings. When would she ever stop having them?

 _"I thought as much,"_ the older woman replied, kicking the swing back a little further. _"You'll learn to trust that, by the way."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"Bad feelings. We always get them when death comes calling. I've got it too. Though I don't quite know who the old bastard is searching for...it's probably someone very close by."_

Star's heart sunk into the pit of her stomach. Or the equivalent. That's certainly what it felt like, at any rate. _"Is there anything we can do about it?"_

The old woman giggled, shaking her head, _"I'm not sure. To be honest, I've never tried before. But I suppose it couldn't hurt. Resting on my laurels so far hasn't done anyone much good, has it?"_

 _"...What do you think we should do, then?"_ Star asked, hopefully. She didn't want anyone else having to die this week if she could help it.

 _"Well..."_ The old woman trailed off. " _I don't really like to do it...because it takes a lot out of me. But...why don't we hitch a ride together, keep an eye on Sam, and see if we can't figure out just what's about to happen, and to whom?"_

Star sighed, shaking her head, " _I don't think I can get back into his body. I already tried. After that little thing they did in the kitchen, it's like I got locked out."_

 _"Honey, there are two other perfectly healthy young boys in this house you can try to possess. As long as you promise not to hurt them, there shouldn't be anything wrong with that. In fact, as I recall, you already tried doing it to Edgar last night."_

 _"And I couldn't!"_

 _"That's because I was holding you back. Now, stop arguing with me, let's go have ourselves a bit of fun!"_ Grandma Emerson glided away across the front garden, and sailed towards the Frog brothers, who were busy lingering around the shed trying to help her husband take measurements of the damage. Sam was busy inside making lunch, avoiding the wrath of his grandfather while he still could.

 _"Come on, sweety. I'll let you have first dibs,"_ the old woman urged, stopping just shy of the boys.

Star paused at the porch, almost afraid to try this again. She didn't want to make it a habit of possessing people...but then a small voice in her mind whispered to her...'what if Michael is the one who's in danger?' And it didn't take much more debating at all before she quickly followed after Grandma Emerson, and lunged at Alan. He gave a great cry as if he'd been doused with a bucket of ice water, and spun about, grasping at his head. Edgar imitated him, as the old woman soon took hold of his body as well.

Meanwhile, Grandpa Emerson clicked his measuring tape shut, and quirked his eyebrows at the both of them, then gave Edgar a very firm glare, "Emma, if you think I'm going to let you go after the widow again like you did last time, you're out of your mind!"

Edgar held up his hands, shaking his head and giggling with a slightly feminine southern lilt to his voice, "oh sweetpea, you know I learned my lesson. Star and I were just about to have a bit of fun together, weren't we?" Edgar turned towards his brother, and Alan quickly nodded in a sort of jerky, unfamiliar motion.

The old man frowned. "So she's dead, then? When did that happen?"

Alan shrugged, "same day I went missing. Don't worry, though, I'm doing fine now."

Grandpa Emerson snorted, "least I know Sam ain't a fairy. Thought he was digging into your make-up drawer."

"Herbert Waldo Emerson, you watch your language!" Edgar scolded, wagging a finger at the old man.

He sighed. "Don't stay in that body too long, Emma. Don't think the boy would appreciate you treating his friends like taxi cabs..."

* * *

Sam sealed the lid of a mayonnaise jar firmly as he tossed his butter knife into the kitchen sink and set to work tearing open a bag of potato chips so he could divvy them out on the plates he'd prepared. He prided himself on his excellent sandwich skills, and today he had truly out-shined himself. Yes, these culinary masterpieces would go down in history forever as the four most magnificent concoctions of bread and lunch-meat ever before seen by mankind.

The phone rang, interrupting his self-indulgent sandwich fantasies, and Sam jumped, scattering chips all over the counter. "Damn..." He cursed under his breath, trying to scoop the mess into a small pile and licking the salt from his fingers after he did so. He'd just put them on Ed and Alan's plates. They wouldn't know the difference. He looked up at the phone beside the sink and gave it an angry glare. He had a feeling he knew exactly who was on the other line right now, just waiting to yatter his ear off over something stupid. Like conspiracy theories about the Easter bunny, or some sort of alien bullshit. That seemed to be the topic of the week, now that she'd met his brother and his freaky vampire friends.

Sam reached over and picked the phone up off the hook, frowning.

"Yeah?" He picked specks of broken chips off of his t-shirt as he waited for a reply.

"Killer! Totes big news! Mega crazy stuff, gotta tell you like...right now, before I explode!" Roxie gasped over the line, and he didn't doubt she might.

"What? Are you not coming over tonight to fix my house?" Sam asked dryly, leaning up against the counter and squinting out through the kitchen window. The Frogs were talking with Grandpa, and looking pretty animated too. That was weird...he wondered what they were telling him. Maybe the juicy details about what Mike had done last night? Typical! They'd spill the beans to the old man, but they'd keep it from Sam just to piss him off.

"Um...not sure. We'll see. Like...but I need you to come over. Right now. Like right right now. The rightest nowest you can come. Now!" Roxie demanded, and Sam shifted the phone onto his other shoulder, sighing again.

"Why?"

"Cause! Like...I just got this super scared feeling at the back of my throat, like it's itchy or something. And those feelings are never wrong. I think your brother sold his bike to my daddy or something, and like...his army buddies are here talking about hunting moose...and they like...it's just really weird. Mega mondo freaky. And mom is all like 'hey, I told you not to invite them over anymore, this is my house and stuff' and daddy's all like 'this is for the good of Santa Carla, cause big game hunting is important' and she was like 'are you trying to destroy our marriage?' Then he was all like 'no, totes not...' he didn't say totes, but like...he might as well, cause it was totes in his tone of voice. That's how mega serious he was. And mom was all like 'you got daughters now, Cliff, you can't do this kinda stuff with them around! They're gonna get hurt!' Then he gave her this real mean scowl, like he was sucking on a mondo sour lemon...and was real mad about it too. And-"

"Roxie...slow down. You're not making any sense. Yes, I'll come over after lunch, but you gotta promise me this isn't going to be something stupid, okay?" Sam replied, giving in. He didn't have anything better to do that day anyway, and it would be another way to avoid the old man before he had to make up for the damaged shed.

" _Sweet beans_! I'll be waiting with bells on, killer! Oh...by the way...there's this real mean dog in our front yard right now. You're gonna wanna avoid him, cause we can't get animal control out to take care of it right now." Roxie paused. "Oh...and like...you gotta get a ride, cause I'm grounded...cause I tried to pet him, and daddy nearly got his arm torn off when he tried to get us back in the house. You shoulda seen piggie scream!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever, Roxie. Bye." He heard a click on the other line and placed the phone on the hook.

It wasn't until he'd managed to shuffle all of the plates on his arms and carry them out to the front yard that Sam realized something...Roxie had said something about Mike's bike...why the hell would _it_ be there?! And...oh shit, he had a real bad feeling about the dog.

"Sammy! You're dropping the sandwiches!" Grandpa Emerson exclaimed, running forward to catch two plates before they managed to topple to the ground.


	22. Chapter 22: Family Business

Author's notes: Visiting family this weekend, so I may not have another chapter up until Monday, but I promise it will probably be a decent length when I do manage to post it.

* * *

Sam sat beside Alan, anxiously watching the trees go by as his Grandfather motored down the road. "Can't you make this go any faster, grandpa?" He asked, leaning forward and putting a hand on Grandpa Emerson's shoulder.

"I'm going the speed limit, Sam," the old man replied gruffly, staring ahead of him. Edgar craned his head to look at the speedometer and shook his head, "I think you're going too fast."

"Well, nobody asked for your opinion," Grandpa Emerson replied, not for a moment taking his eyes off the road.

"You're going to get us all killed if you keep this up," Edgar insisted, leaning back and testing the strength of his seat-belt.

"Ed, stop bugging my grandpa," Sam intoned, a little irritated. He was doing this weird southern thing with his voice right now, and it was kind of getting on Sam's nerves. He didn't know what the deal was with the Frog brothers right now, but he didn't like it. As for Alan, he was way too fascinated with his hands, flexing them repeatedly and lifting them in front of his face to watch the sunlight play through them.

"You know, Sam, it's really great to be alive," he remarked, turning to smile at the very confused boy. There was a sort of dreamy look in his eyes...familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. But he couldn't exactly figure out _why._

"Yeah? That so?" Sam smirked, snorting. Michael must have really done a number on them. Alan looked like he was cracking. Good thing they were going to a head shrinker tomorrow. They definitely needed it. And since when did Edgar get so buddy buddy with grandpa? He was laying his head on the old man's shoulder as if they were a couple at some kind of make-out point. He even tried to put a hand on the old man's knee before it was slapped away.

"Stop it," Grandpa Emerson grunted, looking down at Edgar. "Do you want Sam to think you're going funny?"

"I'm sorry. It's just been so long," Edgar sighed, sitting up. There was a hint of sadness in his voice, and Sam began to seriously wonder if...nah...grandpa didn't do stuff like that. Sure, he stuffed animals...but...Sam shivered in disgust. He wasn't even going to entertain the idea of his grandpa and Edgar. But he did wonder if the gruffer Frog brother was trying to work his way through the Emerson clan, ogling all of them like eye candy. The minute Sam caught him giving him one of those looks, he was going to sock him in the face.

"Sam, do you think we could go see Laddie after we're done with this little trip?" Alan asked hopefully, and Sam didn't miss the slightly higher lilt to his tone of voice.

"Maybe. I don't know. Why would you want to see him? You tried to kill the kid last time you saw him! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with all of you today?! And...dude...Ed...Alan...Star is gonna be pissed if she finds out you've been using her perfume," Sam pinched his nose, leaning against his window so he could get as far away from Alan as possible.

Alan gave him a soulful look, cocking his head slightly and frowning, "there's nothing wrong. We don't have to see him if you don't want to, Sam..." he whispered under his breath, and for some reason it made him feel guilty hearing him talk like that. As if Alan and Edgar weren't one of the main sources of his misery for the last week.

"Listen to your friend, Sam. We're just fine," Edgar craned over to look at the younger boy in the back seat, smiling warmly. Okay, now...that was just wrong. And since when did Edgar call his own brother 'your friend' as if they weren't attached at the hip?

"Ed. I never want to see you smile like that again. You're creeping me out."

Edgar's face fell, and he looked back at Sam's grandpa, who just shrugged.

"I'm not telling him nothing. That's your place, not mine. I'm staying out of this," the old man grumbled. He loved his wife, but there was a reason 'till death to us part' was part of the traditional marriage vow. And if they made it through whatever crazy caper it looked like they were on their way to, he'd have to have a serious talk with her about the kind of people she was allowed to jump in to. Teenage boys were not an option. Not that he was going to be involved, mind you. No, he fully planned on dropping them off and leaving. The shed needed to be fixed, and he still had no clue what they were going to do about that nasty bastard lurking around their house rubbing up on his daughter every five minutes.

* * *

Roxanne kept her nose pressed to the glass, staring out the living room window at the angry white dog pawing around their yard as if it were waiting for something. Her dad and his buddies were huddled around the kitchen table, arguing over their hunting trip, or something. She wasn't paying too much attention. She just wished Sam would hurry up and get there so she could figure out some way to escape from the house before her dad caught her.

Her mom was rushing around the house shoving things into suitcases, casting an angry glare back towards the kitchen every few seconds, while her sisters sat on the couch together fighting over some stupid fashion magazine.

"Ma, why are you getting all worked up? Does moose hunting really scare you that bad?" Roxanne pulled her face away from the window and shifted on her easy chair until she was facing her skittish mother, who looked like she was ready to rush out the door at any second, and take the risk of running into that weird dog.

"Roxanne, not now. We'll talk about this later. I need you to help your sisters get packed so we can leave before it gets dark."

"Why?"

"Because."

"But...but, like...I don't wanna go anywhere! We just got back from-"

" _Roxanne Denise Okhotnik!_ I don't want to argue with you right now. I don't have the time or the patience. Get up and get ready to leave _now_."

Roxie rolled her eyes and slid off of her chair, tucking her hands into her shorts pockets. "Like...this is totes bogus..." she mumbled, slinking out of the living room. She paused at the doorway to glance back at her mom, who had her back turned...and then quickly rushed towards the kitchen before she could be caught, and flopped down at one of the empty chairs surrounding the kitchen table. Her father and all of his friends directed their attention towards her.

"Roxie, what do you think you're doing?" Cliff leveled her with a stern glare.

"...I...I don't wanna go with ma. I want to learn about moose. Meese? Moose? What _is_ the plural for that, anyways?" Roxanne began to chatter, leaning back in the chair and tucking her hands behind her head with a wide grin. She'd stall for time until Sam showed up. After all, mom couldn't make her leave if she snuck out, could she?

Cliff leaned his head forward to rub at his temples. He was placed at the head of the table, and all eyes were on him as he made his decision.

"Gotta tell her sooner or later, Cliff," the youngest man in their group, Frankie, suggested, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

"We're all stuck here, anyway. Could use the extra help if we wanna survive tonight," added another.

"I wouldn't have to do this if one of you had done their research on this pack," Cliff grunted. "Why didn't anyone notice the damned hellhound?!"

"Ohmygawsh, meese have hellhounds?!" Roxanne stood up, slamming her hands on the table in excitement.

"I'll just take her down to the basement. The girls will be there...they might be able to _show_ her better than we can _explain_ it."

"WOW! The basement?! You're gonna like...totes let me see the quiet room, like...finally?!" Roxanne squeaked, hopping on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands together with a girlish squeal.

"Roxanne?" her mother strode into the kitchen, angrily casting her eyes about the group. "I thought I told you to get packed!"

Cliff turned back towards his wife, frowning, "she's joining the family business today, honey. And none of you is leaving this house if I have a say in it. We started this today, and we're gonna end it."

* * *

How long had it been? He couldn't tell. Maybe an hour. Maybe seven. The only thing he really knew was that the day definitely wasn't over yet. If anything, he felt even worse now. Queasy. Uncomfortable. Couldn't they have at least fitted the room he was in with some kind of bar or something he could hang from? Not that he knew for certain whether it would help him sleep, but he'd be a little bit more comfortable. He wouldn't be lying sprawled on the ground anyway, unable to move.

The bitches outside were talking again. The one who'd tricked him, Jackie? Yeah, that was her name...she sounded upset. He strained to listen in on what they were saying through the thick cell door. It was muffled, but he was just barely able to make it out. He was struggling just to focus, but he knew he'd have to. He had to know what the fuck they were planning to do with him, or David and the boys if they showed up. Michael didn't doubt these assholes had some kind of plan. No one would be stupid enough to just lure a pack of vampires out without something in mind to do once they got them there.

"What's she doing here?" Jackie's angry demand.

"I want you girls to update her on things, help her understand what we do here." That was the guy who'd been in charge of the whole thing. The one who'd yelled at Jackie on the beach. Michael would have frowned if he could.

"You're going to get us all killed dragging her into this, _Uncle_ Cliff."

"Ohmygosh! Like...you guys are my cousins?! I thought you were just daddy's assistants at the garage!" An excited squeak. A familiar one...shit...that sounded like Sam's freaky-ass girlfriend. What did she have to do with any of this?!

"I'll be back to check on you girls before sunset. Here, show her how to work this if something happens before we get downstairs," the Cliff guy grunted, and then there was the sound of footsteps on stairs before a door was slammed.

"Listen, you little whack-job, we're not your cousins. We just call him Uncle to keep things simple, understand?" Jackie snapped. She didn't seem to like Sam's little girlfriend too much. He could sympathize. She was definitely an odd one.

"Is that a gun? OHMYGAWD, ARE YOU GIVING ME A GUN?!" The girl squealed, clapping her hands. And it sounded like...she might have been popping some gum in her mouth or something. He couldn't tell.

"It's not a gun, Roxanne. And we're not cousins," a softer feminine voice. The one from earlier, he recalled. She'd be his best bet if he had to talk to one of them when he woke up. She was terrified...he could smell it on her.

"Santa Carla is crawling with vampires. We're here to exterminate. Your dad's in charge of the eastern sect, twerp," Jackie sneered. "But if you wanna survive the night, just stay out of our ways, you got it? The minute the sun goes down, Jen here has a remote that'll set off some sprinklers in the front lawn packed with a shit-ton of holy water. If anyone manages to make it through the perimeter, which isn't likely, we've got six more hunters upstairs-"

"Daddy's army buddies?"

"...Yes. ' _daddy's_ ' army buddies."

"So...is there something in the quiet room?" Michael heard the sound of fingers drumming on his cell door.

"Open up the window if you wanna see what's inside," Jackie sneered. "We got ourselves a live one. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll get to push the button to flip on the UV lights tonight for our fireworks show."

"Jackie, keep it down! _Maybe he can hear you_!" The scared one pleaded. Jen. That's what she'd been called.

There was the sound of metal clicking, and a sharp gasp of breath being sucked in.

"What? What's wrong?" Jackie demanded, and Roxie suddenly let out a nervous high-pitched giggle.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Yeah, like...totes scary. This is gonna be mega fun. Vampires, huh? You...you think that guy in there is a vampire? That's...that's mondo freaky..." Roxanne sounded like she was either terrified of him, or the other girls. He wasn't strong enough right now to read their minds, but he was pretty sure she recognized him. Maybe that would work in his favor. Go figure Sam would fool around with the one girl who's father iced vampires for fun.

"We don't think. We know. He tried to bite me." Jackie grunted.

"...What's wrong with biting?"

The other girls were silent.

"Look, you don't gotta believe us. I wouldn't. But you'll find out soon enough. At any rate, you're sticking around down here, so you might as well just chill. You'll believe when he wakes up...just you wait. He'll go wild and try to tear the door off it's hinges. This one's _real_ moody, and _real_ dumb."

Michael didn't know what else he'd do if he survived this. But he definitely knew he was going to kill that bitch, and he was going to drag it out as long as he could.


	23. Chapter 23: Cherry Bombs

Author's notes: Typing on a fire tablet? Not easy. So many typos. Really difficult to highlight lines, too. On the bright side, easier to type with than my iphone. At least got a bit of this chapter done while I was out of town. Might have another chapter drafted tonight. We'll see.

* * *

A cloud of red dust followed the jeep into the trailing driveway. Sam had only ever been to Roxie's house once, before they'd started dating, for a tutoring lesson in biology. The exploding frog incident had been upsetting enough for Lucy to decide he needed the extra help. The place was just as isolated and creepy as he remembered. It was like whoever had built grandpa's place decided it just didn't have enough of a Manson family vibe, so they improved on it when they built this one. Barbed wire fences lined the property, stopping just shy of the driveway. There may not have been any carved totems or towering wooden bears in the yard, but there were plenty of old engines and mangled trucks to make up for it.

The first thing he noticed as they pulled in, sure enough, was Mike's bike parked on a small grassy hill near the barbed wire fence, on display like some kind of trophy. The second thing he noticed was the angry white dog scratching and snapping at the front door, which he didn't doubt was thoroughly barricaded.

"Oh, man...this isn't gonna be good," he mumbled under his breath. He leaned down to snatch up Mike's old baseball bat he'd tucked under the seat, just in case he needed it, and he definitely was. He'd almost forgotten how insanely vicious that dog was. Even from the driveway, he could see deep gauges dug into the front door and surrounding paneling. It still didn't make sense, though. Thorn belonged to Max, didn't it? So...did that mean the Lost Boys somehow adopted the vicious hellbeast after the head vampire's death? He shook his head, not sure if he really wanted to know all the details. He was beginning to understand a little bit of grandpa's 'stay out of it' philosophy. After all of this was done, Sam vowed he'd do just that, too.

"Angry thing, ain't it?" Grandpa Emerson rasped, rolling up his window. "Guess this is where you all get out," he glanced towards Edgar warily. "We only got one left, 'Edgar'. Look after him, eh?"

A funny look passed between them, and Sam wandered if maybe...just maybe...grandpa's crazy was rubbing off on his friends, leaving him the only sane person left in the jeep. Hell, maybe he'd gone nuts too, and just didn't realize it. It would explain why he was about to risk his life for either his vampire brother or his poorly chosen girlfriend. Maybe both. He really had no clue what he was getting into.

"You sure you don't wanna come along?" Edgar asked, plucking at the old man's sleeve. One quick glance back at Sam, however, and Edgar quickly cleared his throat, slugging Grandpa Emerson in the shoulder with as much manly bravado as he could muster, "it could be real fun!"

"Nah." Grandpa shook his head, "I'm too old for this shit." He paused. "And I gotta mail a package today before the post office closes, anyway."

* * *

David shifted on his perch. He was old enough to rouse himself during daylight hours, though it was uncomfortable, and unless the circumstances were dire, he still wouldn't be able to do much for very long. He was having a lot of trouble relaxing enough to become completely dead to the world. Even though he couldn't pick up on his childe's thoughts, he could feel Michael's distress. And it was bothering him. He didn't like the idea of others touching or trying to harm what belonged to him.

 _"Still awake?"_ Dwayne's voice whispered in David's mind.

" _How could you tell_?"

" _We can all feel it, you've got a real cranky bitch vibe right now, and it's keeping us all up_." Paul snapped, not too happy to have his beauty sleep interrupted.

" _Maybe if you'd been this worried last time, you woulda realized I was still alive bleeding out on the fucking cave floor_ ," Marko added.

" _Give it a rest, Marko_ ," David sighed.

" _So, if we're just gonna hang up here dishing, why not talk about what we're gonna do when Thorn gets back, and we go fetch Mikey? Marko's got a point. Last time we went in guns blazing, didn't work out too well. Do you have any idea what a fucking nightmare it is to have holy water melt your balls off? Worse than banging a blood-crazed she-bitch. I'm telling ya_..."

" _Thanks for the mental image, Paul_ ," Dwayne drawled.

" _Well, what did you think happened? Everything but my balls melted?_ " Paul replied, snickering.

" _I just like to imagine you don't have balls at all. Like some kinda vampire eunuch. Your screams are high enough, anyway_ ," Marko teased.

"... _You, of all people, should know how magnificent my balls are, Marko_ ," Paul retorted.

"... _Okay, shut the fuck up. Both of you_." David growled. " _I'm definitely tired now. We'll discuss our plan in the evening_." As he reluctantly drifted off to sleep, he sent out a mental call to Thorn, summoning the hellhound so it could lead them to the hunters in the evening. And they could get a good idea of just how many they'd be dealing with.

* * *

"You've looked at it long enough. Close the slot. If it manages to wake before sundown, it'll claw your fucking eyes out," Jackie warned, as Roxanne continued to intently peer through the small window of the cell door.

"You're like...real mean when daddy's not around," Roxie replied, slowly latching the window before turning back to face the other two. She hefted up the pellet gun her father had given her and examined it, scratching on a piece of chipped plastic on the side, "why do there have to be three of us down here, anyway? I mean...like...if that remote thingy can just off him in less than ten seconds, why not just hang out with everyone else upstairs?"

Jen shook her head, holding the remote close to her chest, "cause we wanna make sure at least one of us can take it out if something goes wrong. Those things are really strong. They can tear you in half like..." She snapped her fingers, "...that."

Roxie whistled, "sounds mega scary." She glanced around the basement helplessly, unsure of exactly what to say. Clearly her dad and his friends had gone insane, then decided to kidnap Sam's brother...and for whatever reason...thought he was some kinda vampire thing, which was crazy. She knew vampires didn't exist. So far, they hadn't made a very convincing argument in favor of them, either.

 _ **'BOOOOOOM!'**_

"The hell was that?!" Jackie jerked off of her chair, stumbling forward and rushing towards the basement stairs.

"Hold on, I'm coming with you!" Jen squeaked, squeezing the remote tightly to her chest as she took off after her sister. Jackie spun about and shook her head, "no way! You gotta keep an eye on that thing! It it manages to wake up and try to break the door down, you gotta be here to press the button and flip the lights on, or we're all _toast!"_

"I can do it..." Roxie whispered.

Jackie glared at the girl, crossing her arms, "you?"

Roxie shrugged, "I mean...clearly you guys know how to...fight and stuff. I don't even know how to use this thing," she hefted the pellet gun up and waved it around. Jackie and Jen warily dodged wherever she aimed it. The thing was only loaded with wooden pellets, but they still hurt like a mother fucker when they hit you.

"Watch where you're aiming that!" Jen advised, covering her head, remote still clutched in one hand.

"Sorry..." Roxanne lowered the gun, "like...sometimes, y'know...I just don't know what I'm really doing. _Totes bogus_ when we're about to like...fight vampires and stuff, right? Gonna be mondo crazy if you guys aren't up there helping out, too, dontcha think? If...I mean...if they're mega strong and stuff. You never know..." She trailed off, looking up at the ceiling, "and there's no way I could like...screw up pressing a button on a remote thingy, right?"

Jen glanced up at her sister, who was halfway up the stairs, and scowling down at Roxanne suspiciously.

"Yeah...you've got a point..." she replied slowly, glancing over at Jen. "Give her the remote. Just in case." She looked back at Roxanne, "but we're only gonna be gone for five minutes, you got it? Five. Minutes. Don't do anything stupid!"

Roxanne waved her hands, and pellet gun in front of her face, "of course not! Totes promise."

Jen dodged Roxie's flailing gun once more and warily approached her, holding the remote out, "be careful with this."

 _ **'BOOM!'**_

"Fuck!" Jackie shouted, tearing back up the stairs. Jen paused to snatch the pellet gun out of Roxanne's hand and quickly followed.

Taking a deep breath, Roxie spun back towards the door and sighed, "gotta figure out a way to getcha outta here, bud. Killer would be mondo mad if I let my crazy daddy off his big brother," she rushed towards the cell door and unlatched it, yanking it wide open.

* * *

Sam dug inside his pockets, fishing for another cherry bomb. Good thing he'd packed ammunition, or there was no way he'd be able to distract that crazy dog. Alan and Edgar crouched close behind him, hands clinging to his over-sized dress shirt. They were ducking behind one of the mangled trucks, just out of sight of the hellhound, and he was doing his best to distract it and get the damned thing to run off so they could get access to the front door. So far, his aim had been piss poor, and pretty much landed right beside it, so the dog didn't have far to run before it returned to it's mission of breaking into the house and possibly eviscerating any and every living thing inside.

"You need to throw it _away_ from the house, Sam," Alan suggested helpfully. There was none of the harshness in his tone he might have expected, but it was still an irritating suggestion. Of _course_ he had to do that! It wasn't his damned fault the wind kept catching his cherry bombs and doing it's own fucking thing.

"How many do you have left, honey?" Edgar asked, looking down at Sam's pockets.

"Honey?" Sam exclaimed incredulously, "what the hell is wrong with you two?! Did Mike scramble your brains or something?"

Alan bit his lip, looking down at the ground nervously and back at him, meeting his eyes, "we're just...we've changed. We don't want you to get hurt. And what's going on, anyway?" Alan reached up to brush at his hair, as if he was trying to pull it away from his face, though there really wasn't much there.

"Look, I don't know, okay? Roxanne called me earlier, and she said Mike sold his bike," Sam pointed towards his brother's motorcycle beside the gate, "...and that dog over there is the hellhound I told you guys about last year! _Max's_ dog!"

Edgar's face grew cloudy and he glared over at the white dog clawing at the door, "I figured it was one of those. We can't kill it..." he shook his head, "the cherry bombs are a good idea, sweetheart. Give me one. I used to play softball, I think I can get a further shot from the house for you."

Sam quirked an eyebrow, slowly pulling out his last firework and dropping it into Edgar's outstretched hand, along with a lighter. "Whatever. Yeah, just go ahead and try. You can't do any worse than I did..." He'd have to let the softball remark slide. Clearly the Frogs had some kinda problem today, but it wasn't his top priority. What he was worried about was his brother. And if Mike survived the day, then Roxie. Cause chances were...whatever the hell was going on...the Lost Boys would show up the minute the sun went down to cause trouble. And there was no way his girlfriend or her family would be safe.

Suddenly, Edgar jerked his arm back and stepped away, winding his fist in a circle before he let the cherry bomb fly, several dozen feet away from the front door.

 **'BOOOOOM!'** Thorn growled, spinning around and diving towards the source of the noise and the cloud of grass flying into the air.

" _LET'S GO!"_ Alan hissed, jerking Sam's bat from his grip and tearing towards the front door. Sam and Edgar were hot on his heels, as they kept casting hectic glances towards the distracted dog, desperate to keep from making a sound as they did so. Soon they were there, right at the door, banging on the door,

"LET US IN!" Sam yelled, desperate. He hadn't thought this far.

Thorn spun back towards them, snarling, and Alan brandished the baseball bat, ready to hit a home-run if the hellhound came any closer. There was the sound of a lock slowly clicking on the other side, and Edgar and Sam began to pound at the door even louder, "HURRY UP, HONEY!" Edgar shrieked, his voice sounding even higher and more southern than ever. Jesus Christ, had he just stepped out of Gone with the Wind?!

When the door was slowly cracked open, and Alan looked as if he were about to sacrifice himself in a final battle with the dog, Thorn pulled back and lowered his head. Alan and Edgar scrambled inside the house, and Alan quickly backed away from the hellhound. It wasn't approaching anymore, but instead turning away, whining. It gave a quick huff and cast one last look at the boy before tearing off away from the house as fast as it's legs could carry it.

"Holy shit!" Sam panted, as Alan ran for the door and jumped inside the house, slamming the door behind him. A very confused Mrs. Okhotnik was looking back and forth between all three boys as she swiftly locked the door and frowned. "...What on earth are you kids doing here?" She sighed, putting her hands on her face and rubbing at her eyes, "god damn it, Roxanne..."

Sam squinted, looking about the living room they stood in. Roxanne's sisters were crouched together on the couch, reading a fashion magazine, oblivious to the world around them. Two large men in camouflage sat beside them, bearded and decked out with several stakes strapped over their chests. Roxanne's father paced near the wide doorway leading into the kitchen, fuming and glaring at the boys. A slightly younger guy in camo sat in an easy chair across from the couch, picking at his fingers with a bowie knife, while two more men perched on chairs at the kitchen table pouring over a map together. They weren't wearing camo, but they still looked pretty damned scary. Meanwhile, a pair of women around Mike's age, maybe one of them a little older, came racing through the kitchen waving pellet guns over their heads and panting.

" _Oh...man_...so I guess our book club meeting is canceled?" Sam squeaked, the first excuse he could come up with pouring out of his mouth before he could think. He had a feeling telling these guys Mike was his big brother would probably end pretty bad.

"Oh...dear..." Edgar chimed in, voice faltering, "and I so hoped to discuss those...upsetting...things that happened...in that one chapter."

Sam glanced back at the gruffer frog, frowning. "Thanks Ed, I don't know what I'd do without you," he sighed.


	24. Chapter 24: Hunters are Jerks

Author's notes: Told you I'd push another chapter out today. I didn't initially start this with Roxie's family being off balance. Much like everything else, it just sorta happened whether I wanted it to or not. I promise nightfall and bloodshed are coming in the next chapter. Plenty of it, too.

* * *

Roxanne crouched down beside Michael as she set the remote aside. "Okay...so..." she poked at him, getting (surprisingly) no response whatsoever. She bit her bottom lip, shifting on her ankles and reaching towards his neck to check his pulse. "You alive, biker-dude?" She paused. "Michael...like...that's what Killer called you, isn't it? You alive, Michael?"

 _"No, not really,"_ Michael thought bitterly. He couldn't really reply in this state, immobilized by the afternoon sun. It _was_ afternoon by now, wasn't it? He really hoped so. Kinda hard to tell when you couldn't even open your eyes to look at a watch.

Roxanne sidled up beside Michael, reaching down to yank open one of his eyelids. He got the brief blurred impression of a bright pink and white blob, but couldn't really focus enough to make out any features beyond that.

"Well, your eyeballs are movin'...so guess you ain't totes a goner yet. They musta knocked you out with some maaaaaajor wacky pills. Unless, like...you're goin' through some kinda alien spore-cycle right now." She paused. "Are you?"

What was worse, he wondered? Listening to the bitch outside criticizing his intelligence, or...listening to Sam's girlfriend, who he could swear was actively draining his ability to comprehend basic logic just by talking to him? At least the other one gave away a few details that might help him stay alive, if he wasn't fried first.

"Okay, so, here's what I'm gonna do..." There was the sound of something clicking and metal shifting. "Gonna take the batteries outta this remote, just in case there's some kinda bomb they set to blow instead of those funky lights in here..." Another clicking sound and he felt her move away slightly, letting his head drop and his eyelid close.

"And if Killer manages to get in the house, which he might've...with all that exploding stuff happening upstairs, I wouldn't doubt it. That's one thing ya gotta love about your bro, y'know? He really knows his way around a cherry bomb." She paused. "Course I'm the one who gave him a push and like...totes taught him all about the stuff. If you keep it a secret between us, I had a mondo crush on him when we met, but I didn't know what to say...until we were like lab partners in biology, right? So I totes put a firecracker in our frog and lit it up, then blamed it on him when the thing went **BOOM!"** She shouted, clapping her hands together and giggle-snorting. "Mondo big deal...bits of guts and gross stuff all over the table...mega cross when it got in my hair, but really really _really_ worth it! He's a real good kisser, y'know?" Roxanne continued to chatter away, and Michael heard the sound of fabric sliding against something. He didn't doubt she was settling down nearby.

 _"What...the fuck...does this have to do with getting me out of here?!"_ Michael mentally groaned.

"You're like...the _best_ listener. Should totes get into like...counseling or something. And don't worry, I know you're not a vampire...but I mega swear I won't tell Killer bout the...like...alien bodysnatching thing you got going on. So we both got a secret."

He felt a sudden movement beside him, and heard the sound heels on concrete. Then metal shifting. A latch clicking...

"Don't worry. I put some gum on the lock. You can open the door whenever you wake up, okay?" Roxanne whispered, pulling the door shut. " _I'll try and keep everyone busy upstairs, huh_?" She paused. "...But ya owe me a new pack of gum. That was, like, my last piece. So...I guess...sleep tight? Don't be too mad at daddy...I know he's trying to kill ya and stuff, but he's not all bad. I mean...he raised me, didn't he? And I'm...like...completely normal."

 _"...There's something in the fucking water in Santa Carla. I just know it..."_ Now, more than ever before, Michael really wished he could shut his brain off. This bimbo was the true master of torture. God help Sam if she survived the night and ever got it in her head to marry him, because Michael was fairly sure she'd figure out a way to use explosives to make it happen.

* * *

"Well, boys," Mrs. Okhotnik cleared her throat, "I'd love to give you a ride home, but me and the girls have to skip town because my husband is an idiot. We don't have time to make any pit stops, but I wish you the best of luck, and if you die...well...I'll send your mother a card. But you should probably just skip on home now, I'm sure you'll make it out of here in time to avoid that," she told Sam and the Frogs brusquely as she knelt beside the couch to scoop up a suitcase.

"Girls, go get your sister. That dog looks like it ran off, so we'd better get moving before sunset." She turned towards her daughters on the couch as she spoke, though they were entirely too absorbed in their magazine to hear her.

"You're not taking my daughters," Roxanne's dad barked from across the room, no longer pacing.

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do!" She shouted back, throwing her suitcase on the ground. "This whole mess is your fault, and I'm not going to let my children **die** because you have to prove to rest of the _boys club_ that you've got the biggest balls!"

Sam backed away from the screaming woman as her husband advanced on her. The two girls on the couch weren't even phased. He really shouldn't be surprised Roxie's family was turning out to be just as nuts as her...

The man picking at his nails in the easy chair shook his head, smirking, casting an eye over at their guests. "Don't worry about it, kids. They're always like this when a hunt is about to start. Don't suppose any of you know how to use a crossbow, huh?"

The two young women who'd rushed into the room exchanged a glance, and the younger of the pair crossed her arms with a sardonic expression, "I think there's enough of us here today, we don't need a few dumbass teens joining in. Besides, if they're friends of Roxanne...they're probably just as useless."

Cliff stopped arguing with his wife, turning on the two women, "you keep your god damned mouth shut about my daughter, Jackie!"

She held up her hands in a placating gesture, "sorry, _Uncle Cliff_. Just putting it out there, she doesn't even know how to use a pellet gun. They're teenagers, for god's sake. There's no way they'll be able to help take out a whole pack! They'd be more useful as lawn bait, frankly."

Cliff frowned, scratching at his chin, "now there's an idea..."

"You leave those boys alone!" Mrs. Okhotnik leveled a finger at her husband, "there's been enough bloodshed in this house as it is!"

Sam glanced over at Edgar and Alan, who looked just as confused as he felt. Edgar quickly seemed to recover though, smoothing his expression. Sam wasn't sure if he liked the look in his eyes as he stepped forward, "you folks are vampire hunters...aren't you?"

* * *

There was the sound of running water in the kitchen. Everyone directed their attention to the sink, where Roxanne was casually filling a glass, bobbing on the balls of her feet and humming an Adam Ant tune. "Love me some water. H2O...aqua...agua...liquid of refreshment and hyyyydration-" she paused, spinning back towards everyone else, an overly-shocked expression on her face. In one hand she held the glass, in another, a strange-looking remote. Sam frowned, really unsure what to think right now.

"Oh. Right. I'm like...totes supposed to keep guard on that guy downstairs in the basement with the dark hair and the leather jacket who hangs out with those bikers on the boardwalk, aren't I? Well...this is mondo awkward..." She slowly looked around, meeting everyone's eyes, but lingering on Sam's. Nobody could accuse her of subtlety, that much was certain.

"Ugh! You pink punk posing idiot!" Jackie exclaimed, rushing over to snatch the Remote from Roxanne's grasp and dash out of the room towards a small door by the kitchen. She swung it open, and flew down a flight of stairs, closely followed by her friend. Cliff frowned after them and rounded on his daughter, crossing his arms.

"Why did you leave him down there unguarded, Roxanne Denise Okhotnik?" He demanded sternly.

"Because she's leaving with me!" Roxanne's mother interrupted, shoving past her husband to march towards the kitchen and snatch up Roxanne's free hand. The girl lifted her glass of water to her mouth, squeaking in protest.

"Hold on, ma! Lemme drink my mondo refreshing glass of hydrating relief, first!" She exclaimed, winking over at Sam. He was more confused now than ever.

"None of you are going anywhere," one of the two men at the kitchen table said quietly, rolling up the papers they'd been looking over. Roxanne's mother dropped her hand, looking over at them with fear in her eyes. There was something unreadable in her expression, and frankly at this point Sam wasn't even trying to understand what was going on anymore. Much like anything involving Roxanne, even remotely, he realized he was just going to have to go with it until he and the Frogs managed to figure a way out.

Cliff brushed a bit of sweat from his brow, smiling nervously at the men, and glancing towards the door, "so...we're going through with the plans, then. Good..."

" _You_ are. We're leaving. Got to get the word out to the other sects that we're nailing the Eastern pack tonight," the other man at the table replied, standing up from the table. He glanced over at Sam and the Frogs, a somewhat disturbing smile plastered on his face, "and I think the yard bait idea is a very good one. But just so we know you're keeping your word about protecting the city, Cliff, why don't you tie your eldest up with them? Just to make sure you don't chicken out with your wife and try to skip town tonight before the going gets rough. Frankie, you'll let us know how it turns out, won't you?" He glanced over at the man picking his nails on the easy chair. Frankie nodded back, grinning at him. He looked just a little too eager.

"Good." Both men exited the kitchen, heading towards the front door.

"Oh, and Cliff..." The one who'd been talking paused to put a hand on Roxanne's father's shoulder, "you're doing god's work. If this pans out tonight, it'll be no time before we roost them all out and fix Santa Carla for good." He patted Cliff's cheek with a patronizing smile, and departed with his companion.

Sam watched them leave, and noticed a very funny look on Edgar's face.

 _"These old bastards never learn,"_ Edgar mumbled under his breath _. "There's a reason we follow house rules around here..."_

Alan's eyes were wide, and he reached over to squeeze his brother's hands, "what are we going to do?"

Edgar just shook his head, "wouldn't feel right to ditch them in the middle of this mess. Let's just wait and see how things pan out, sugar."

Mrs. Okhotnik sobbed, falling to her knees. "How could you let this happen to us, Cliff?!"

Roxanne's father just shook his head in bewilderment, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." It looked like all of his confidence and anger from earlier had evaporated. But somehow, despite it all, Roxanne's sisters were _still_ flipping through their magazine.


	25. Chapter 25: Payback

Author's notes: There's a fine line between torturing characters for plot/character development...and just outright torturing them. Hope I didn't blur that line too much.

* * *

"I'm sorry about this, Roxie," Cliff sighed as he tested the ropes to make sure none of the teenagers could escape. He'd tied them all together in a grouping, the remains of their bonds securely strapped onto an old car engine in the front yard.

"If you were sorry about this, you wouldn't be doing it," Edgar piped up, getting a firm glare from the older man for his troubles.

"Don't worry, honey. The sprinklers will go off, and it'll be like those vampires never existed. They'll be nothing but puddles all over the lawn. After this, we can all go to Disneyworld with the check I'll be getting, and we can forget all about this...everything will go back to normal. No more hunting. No more monsters. Your mom'll forgive me, and we'll all be happy. I promise," Cliff explained standing up and backing away from the group. He had a funny look in his eyes. Even Roxanne was a little disturbed.

"Daddy, there's no such thing as vampires. Untie us. Let us go. We can call the cops about those mega weird friends of yours in the house, and we can let that guy in the basement out-"

"NO!" Cliff snapped, shaking his head, "he'll kill us!" At the look of fear on Roxanne's face, he took a deep breath and tried to smooth his features out. "I'm sorry, sweety. I didn't mean to yell like that. But you have to understand, this is a war we're fighting. And that boy downstairs is a monster. If we don't kill him, after we brought him here, well...it just won't be pretty. I love you, Roxanne. Don't worry. Daddy won't let anyone hurt you tonight." Slowly, Cliff took a few steps away from them, backing towards the front door.

"Daddy!" Roxanne called out, even as the front door slammed behind him. She let her head slump forward and sighed, "totes sorry about this, guys. Didn't know daddy had to go to the funny farm, or I wouldn'ta invited you here..." She bit her bottom lip and shifted a bit, the ropes wrapped around her shoulders and tied about her hands biting into her skin uncomfortably. "But don't worry. What's the worst thing that's gonna happen tonight? We get a bit wet and stay out here a couple of hours? We can manage, no probs. And, y'know...I took the batteries outta that remote that sets the sprinklers off, so even that's not gonna happen!" She beamed, satisfied that even though they were tied together, at least she'd done _something_ to make up for her psychotic father.

Sam remained silent, scowling at a patch of grass in front of him. If Mike's shit-sucking buddies showed up, would they even stop to realize who he was, or were they just going to go all-out and have a nice tea party massacre on the lawn? If Mike was down in the basement, he wouldn't be up here to defend them. And...the sprinklers. _Fuck._ Roxanne basically just disabled their only possible defense if they ended up needing it!

" _House rules_ ," Edgar croaked ominously, and Sam could feel his hair brushing up against the back of his head as the gruffer Frog brother shifted. "There's a reason for house rules," he continued, sounding more and more agitated with every word.

"Ed. Please. For the love of god...please tell me why you and Alan are making even less sense than those dickheads with the camo in the house!" Sam demanded, wanting to have this out once and for all. If he was going to die, he didn't want to do it with a headache, and all the shit Edgar was saying definitely wasn't helping matters.

"We should tell him, Mrs. Emerson," Alan whispered.

"Mrs...?!" Sam sputtered, beyond the point where he could even find words to respond with. So he bit his tongue, and prayed things were about to make sense, once Edgar and Alan finally had it out.

Edgar sighed, "I'm your grandma, Samuel. I mean, of course _Edgar_ isn't, but _I_ am. For the last several years, I've been hanging around the house trying to keep your grandpa sane since I passed away. And Star over here is roosting inside your other friend for a bit, cause we both wanted to follow you tonight and get a bit of sight-seeing in. Clearly, it didn't turn out too well."

Sam lowered his head, struggling to bring his knees forward so he could tuck himself into a ball. They were all crazy. Everyone in this city was crazy, and now he was tied to the worst nutcases on the planet.

"Ohhhhhh, so _that's_ why you both feel so cold! Whew! Totes thought my psychic feels were on the fritz or something," Roxanne giggle-snorted. He wasn't surprised she believed them. Roxanne would believe anything if it was weird enough...except apparently in vampires. Go figure the one legitimate supernatural thing in the world just happened to be the one she thought was non-existent.

"Okay, go on," Sam told them dryly. He was going to die. Obviously. There didn't seem much point in not letting them finish their inane little story. At least it could keep him entertained in his final hours.

"What was that thing you said about house rules?" Alan asked softly, intent on listening to Edgar's inane chatter. At least that part was normal.

"If you expect to keep a community like Santa Carla thriving, you've got to set down rules. The people who know what's going on in this city have been following them for years. House rules. Simple things, like not leading packs back to your home unless you absolutely have to. And even then, making sure your family is safely out of harm's way. Not inviting anyone into your home unless you absolutely know they can cast a reflection and walk in daylight before they come over. And most importantly, **you never use children as bait**!" This time he directed his last statement towards the house.

"Fine. So, let's say I believe all of this bullshit. I mean, after Roxanne's shitty little seance the other night, I guess it's possible. But if all this is true, and you're my grandma...hiding out in Edgar's body, which, by the way, is disturbing on several different fucking levels, then why the hell would Star be in Alan's body, huh? She's not even dead!" He had them both. There was no way they'd be able to keep up this stupid charade now.

"Oh..." Alan cleared his throat. "I killed myself a few days ago...I...I couldn't handle not having Michael in my life anymore..."

Roxanne sobbed beside Sam, kicking at the grass in front of her.

"What is it? What's wrong now?!" Sam jerked to sneak a glance over at his girlfriend.

"It's just so saaaaaaad!" She wailed.

* * *

Night. It was finally night. At the same exact moment David and the boys unlatched their toes from their perches to take flight from the cave, Thorn happily leading the way, Michael drowsily sat up in his cheerful little cell. It was without a doubt the worst sleep he'd ever had. Even counting when Marko's pigeons had decided to roost on his feet all day scratching and pecking at him for eight solid hours.

Michael groaned, pushing himself to his knees and standing up. He hadn't really gotten a good look at his cell the night before when they'd shoved him inside, but now that he could actively survey it...he realized...there really wasn't much to see. It was just a padded cell with what appeared to be a very scratched-up metal door. So that could only mean others had been brought here before, he suspected. Though they probably didn't have packs to come fetch them. Above him, several rows of strange-looking fluorescent lights were rigged. And Michael suspected the minute he made it known that he was finally awake, the bitch outside would try to turn them on so she could cook him to a crisp. He smirked darkly, crossing his arms. This was going to be fun.

"Let me outta here!" He barked examining his nails and frowning down at them. He was going to have to file them a bit later, when he got back to the cave. God help David if they decided to give him up for dead tonight and not even bother trying to find him.

"Quiet in there, bloodsucker!" Jackie gleefully shouted back on the other side of the door.

"This is your last chance to let me out before I make you wish you had," Michael told her calmly, approaching the door and letting his claws extend so he could carve small strings of metal filings from the surface. The sound the process created was not a pleasant one.

Jackie snorted, "nightfall, dumbass. Still no buddies here to save you? Guess I'm going to get to have a bit of fun! _Say good night_!" He heard a soft click on the other side, and could only assume she was pressing the buttons on her remote. For a split second, he almost panicked. After all, they could have found out the batteries were missing after Sam's girlfriend ran off...he closed his eyes instinctively, but a deep feeling of relief washed over him when the lights above did not in fact switch on. His smirk grew even wider, and Michael let out a blood-curdling shriek, just to give them a small hint of self-satisfaction before he went on the attack.

As he slowly let his cries die down, giving out a few whimpers for good measure, Michael waited to hear their reactions on the other side. He mused to himself, wondering why he'd never auditioned for a play back in high school between seasons.

* * *

Jackie panted gleefully, pulling her sister in close and grinning, "we did it! We nailed one!" She crowed, releasing her sister's shirt so she could toss her hands above her head and cheer, "one more bloodsucker gone forever!"

Jen nodded slowly, smiling, "it didn't seem very nice, keeping him in that cell all day, though...we could have just staked him last night and made it quick..." she said warily.

"What, and miss that awesome concert he just threw in there?" Jackie jerked a thumb behind her, grinning. Jen's smile fell as she gazed at her sister, and she took a step back.

"What? Why are you making that face?" Jackie raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. As she leaned back, she felt something behind her. A solid, albeit very cold male chest.

" _Good night_ ," Michael whispered, gripping her shoulders tightly and leaning down to sniff at her neck. "You know, you really are dumb," he retorted, echoing what she'd said to him the night before, spinning the girl around so she could get a good look at his cruel grin, fangs and all. As she struggled to reach for her pellet gun strapped to her belt, he reached down to tear it away and snap it into pieces in one quick movement, pulling the girl even closer afterwards.

" **JACKIE**!" Jen shrieked, hefting up her pellet gun and leveling it at Michael. Faster than she could think, she was pulling the trigger, firing pellet after pellet at him. But each one only ended up tearing into her sister as Michael dodged and hefted the girl up like a shield. She didn't even see him coming when he was finally across the room swiping his claws across her throat to silence the screaming girl.

" **JENNNNN**! Jackie shrieked in horror as her sister slumped to the ground, blood quickly pooling around her in a huge splash of dark crimson.

"Fuck, what a headache. Am I right?" Michael looked down at Jackie, who'd slumped in his arms by now, bruised from the pellets and the way he'd roughly tossed her about like a ragdoll. Good. She deserved it.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk," he taunted, pulling her close and dragging sharp claws through the girls hair until they were slumped together against the basement wall. The gesture might have been tender, if not for the fact that he had begun to drag his fangs along her throat once he got a good grip of her hair to pull her head aside. David and the others would probably be there soon, but he could keep himself more than occupied with this bitch while he waited for them.

"You know, I don't normally like to draw this kind of thing out," Michael mused, licking a drop of blood from one of his fangs and squeezing her even tighter. She gave a sharp cry, eliciting a chuckle from him. He really wasn't lying. So often when the Lost Boys went out on their hunts, Michael used restraint. Tried his best not to let himself enjoy it more than he absolutely had to. In a way, he supposed that was how he clung to his humanity. But right now, he just didn't see much of a point to it anymore. There was no going back. No changing. Why should he force himself to be miserable about it?

"I should be thanking you," he added, dragging his fangs across her throat again, this time on a fresh spot, just so he could listen to her cry out again as a new wave of pain hit her when the skin was split open.

 _"W...why?"_ She hissed through the pain, attempting to struggle in his arms, which really didn't do much. He was paying more attention to her now. And if she had a stake tucked away somewhere, he damned sure wasn't going to let her get access to it.

"You've made me a new man tonight, babe," he replied dryly, twisting her hair around his fist and jerking her head to the other side so he could dig his fangs into the unmarred flesh. This time, he let himself take a few gulps, resisting the urge to moan into her skin. He was desperately hungry tonight, after all the shit he'd been put through, including the little example he'd had to set for the Frogs at his grandpa's house the night before.

He wrinkled his nose as he recalled something David always liked to tell him. The bastard was right. Fear and pain really did make the blood taste better. Ugh. The asshole would probably rub this in Michael's face later, too, if he ever admitted it.

"Hey, you think you can keep this between us?" Michael teased, pulling back to look down at his prey. She hadn't lost enough yet to lose focus, so he was greeted with a very pleasant image. Her eyes widening in terror at the sight of her own blood dripping down his chin.


	26. Chapter 26: Tree branches?

Author's notes: And the boys are back in town. :D. I've been listening to a lot of 80s music while I wrote this...just imagine 'Put one Foot in Front of the Other' by Bone Symphony as a montage while Paul makes them set up for his wild plan. Really sets up the mood in an ironic kind of way...

* * *

The black fabric of his coat fluttered in the wind, snapping and rising behind David like a set of bat's wings. Bikes weren't going to be fast enough tonight. So they took to the sky. For once, Paul had nothing snarky to say as they focused on Thorn's path below them leading towards wherever Michael had been trapped. Every so often, David would send a thought out, mentally scanning for a response, and finding none. Either Michael was nearly dead, or entirely too focused on something else to notice the call. But even David admitted thinking wasn't his childe's strong point. Not that he was an idiot, he just...had a little bit more trouble catching their thoughts. But he was also young, so that made a difference too.

 _"I think I heard something,"_ Dwayne whispered in their minds, directing his attention towards a house in the distance.

 _"Sounded like screaming,"_ Marko agreed, as they all picked up speed and began to descend towards an outcropping of trees just on the border of the house's property.

 _"Sounded like Michael,"_ David growled, nestling on a large branch and digging his claws into the bark angrily while he crouched and glared through the foliage to scan the front yard. They were a little too distant to make out, but he could scent several things on the air, the Frog brothers, Michael's little fuck of a brother and his screw-loose girlfriend...someone he didn't recognize...and... _Star._

David snarled, on the verge of diving towards the source of the smell before Dwayne lashed out to grab his shoulder and steady him. Turning back to glare at the taller vampire, David gave him a warning growl.

 _"Cool your heels, David. Remember what happened last time. We've got to think of a plan of approach...we've got no idea what's waiting for us over there. It could be a trap,"_ Dwayne frowned, looking back towards the boys and girl tied together. _"And I think she's possessing one of them right now, so I doubt this has anything to do with Star."_

 _"And hey, if it does, we can all blame it on you, Davey,"_ Paul remarked, no longer able to contain himself.

 _"Dwayne. Marko. I give you full permission to end the bitch bet tonight when this is over. Paul's privileges have been revoked,"_ David informed the other two pack members, who were only too happy to exchange a dark glance before looking back over at a flustered Paul. But now wasn't the time to gloat. They needed to find out where Michael was.

David closed his eyes and focused, stretching his influence as far as it could reach, digging for something. Any sign that his childe was nearby and coherent.

" _You sure took your time,"_ a reed-thin thought pierced his mind, and David's eyes snapped open.

 _"Michael?"_ He ground out, _"are you okay?"_

 _"Peachy. Thanks for asking. Careful out there, by the way. They've got sprinklers armed with holy water. I've got the remote that sets them off, but I'm sure they've got a fail-safe. Last I heard, there were six dudes upstairs waiting to take you guys on. Have fun with that,"_ Michael replied, almost cheerful.

 _"You're taking this well,"_ David replied dryly, leaning back and removing his claws from the branch they were embedded in. He had calmed down enough not to shred the tree to pieces anymore, but he was still on edge. Now was not the time to relax.

 _"I just ate. I'll do my best to get out of here on my own, but I'll probably need some help. If you see my brother, leave him in one piece."_

 _"And the others?"_ David quirked an eyebrow.

 _"What? The Frogs? Yeah, don't kill them either. Or that chick..."_

 _"Getting sentimental, Mikey?"_ Marko joined in, snickering.

 _"She saved my life. The least I can do is ask you nicely not to rip her throat out,"_ Michael snapped back. Even with his life in danger, apparently he was still capable of getting irritated at them. It was nice to know some things didn't change.

"I think I've got an idea!" Paul said aloud, grinning widely and staring out across the lawn.

"If it involves dresses, the answer is no," Dwayne turned to him, frowning.

Paul rolled his eyes, "no. We just need some props...I think some branches will work..."

* * *

Cliff held his crossbow to his chest, peeking out through the window curtains and frowning. No one yet. Maybe the biter's pack didn't care about him. It had happened before. In fact, so far, they'd seldom managed to lure many to the house, but...if they pulled this off and managed to knock out the Eastern pack (otherwise known as The Lost Boys), it would be a massive score for the city.

"You're sure they'll be safe?" Cliff turned back towards Frankie, who'd locked his wife and two youngest daughters in their bedroom to get them out of the way.

"As long as we don't fuck this up, yeah," Frankie shrugged, tucking his bowie knife into his belt and glancing over at the other two men perched on the edge of the couch. They didn't talk much. But they were useful.

"Rooster, check on the girls downstairs. Bruce, why don't you help Cliff keep guard by the door?" It was an unspoken threat towards their official leader. If Cliff decided to rush out and save his daughter before the biters showed up, Bruce would be there to take him out. Because if his loyalty was compromised...Frankie would be the next in charge.

"The minute they show, if the sprinklers don't set off, we gotta get those kids inside. Understand?" Cliff frowned, looking back and forth between Bruce and Frankie as Rooster took off towards the basement.

"Of course," Frankie shrugged noncommittally. "Wouldn't want to put them in harm's way."

"You're damned right," Cliff barked. He didn't like this. But he was in too deep now to turn back. And he knew they'd make it through this. They always did. The last thread of courage left in his mind stubbornly clung to this thought, because he wasn't capable of considering the alternative.

* * *

Edgar threw his head back, smacking it into the back of Sam's skull. "OW!" Sam yelped, pulling forward. "What the hell, _grandma?!"_

"I...I'm sorry baby," Edgar panted, "I'm not used to hosting someone this long. It's getting harder...harder to keep control. I...may have to leave soon..."

Alan turned a worried eye on Edgar, biting his bottom lip, "are you going to be okay?"

"Oh, honey, of course I am! I just need some rest...that's all. How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. Getting kind of sleepy, though..."

"Now, Star, I know I told you not to harm anyone. And I meant it. But if you need to, before this is over tonight, I'm giving you full permission to do whatever you have to in order to protect my grandsons. Do you understand?" Edgar shifted so he could meet Alan's gaze, and the other Frog brother nodded quickly.

"I owe them that much, after what I did," he replied softly, looking down.

"Okay, I'm about to head out. When the boy starts screaming, just make something up. He doesn't need to know about me," Edgar looked over towards Roxanne with a week smile, "and sweetheart...next time you visit with Samuel, please try not to use the soap bars like that. It isn't sanitary."

Sam's mouth floundered and he blushed profusely, thankful he couldn't meet Edgar's eyes. If anything, that last bit of advice was enough to convince him his grandmother really was possessing the gruffer Frog brother. There was no way even Roxie would tell people _that_ story...oh god...did grandpa know?!

"Okey dokey. Nice to meet ya in person, Mrs. Emerson. Stay safe around that booger in your kitchen, huh?" Roxanne replied cheerfully, winking at Edgar just before he passed out.

* * *

As Michael licked his claws, pushing Jackie's lifeless corpse to the ground and off of his lap, he heard the sound of a heart fluttering not too far off. Someone was at the basement door. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the wall, and crawled along it until he managed to position himself on the ceiling, back pressed close to the stucco.

"Jackie? Jen?" A deep voice boomed at the top of the stairs as the door slowly creaked open. He sounded brave. But he didn't smell it.

"You girls gonna set the sprinklers off? It's showtime!" He shouted, slowly climbing down the steps, a pellet gun pressed close to his chest as he glanced around. His eyes quickly lit on a large puddle of blood spreading towards the foot of the steps, and he followed it until he saw Jen lying on her stomach, beyond a shadow of a doubt as dead as could be. And near the wall...Jackie as pale as a sheet.

" _The fuc_ -" He yelped as he was immediately cut off when Michael floated down behind him and grabbed the man by the chin, squeezing and twisting until a satisfying **'CRACK'** rang through the air, and the sound of muscle tearing. Michael grinned, satisfied as he let yet another victim fall to the ground. This was kinda fun...he should get himself kidnapped more often. But sooner or later, someone would come downstairs guns blazing. Half of the household coming down to check on them and not returning was sure to raise a few eyebrows.

* * *

Marko looked down at their handiwork with a doubtful expression, glancing back up at Paul as the other vampire tore one last branch from a tree and tossed it onto their rather large pile of foliage and wood. "I don't think this is going to work, Paulie," he stated frankly as he crossed his arms.

"Well...no, it probably wouldn't have worked _before_ Davey became a head vampire...but c'mon, haven't you guys ever read Dracula?" Paul spread his arms, looking about at the other Lost Boys, who looked just as doubtful as Marko.

"I have. You haven't. You watched a cartoon," Dwayne crossed his arms and frowned.

"It's gonna work. You just gotta believe!" Paul insisted, turning back at David and grinning, "just like flying...am I right?"

There was no answering laugh. "Because...Peter Pan...and...happy thoughts..." he trailed off. The joke still fell flat. "Whatever. _Fuck you guys_ ," Paul scowled. "But this is gonna work. I know it will. Max could do shit like this all the time! Besides, what's the difference between this and a bunch of Chinese food?"

"This isn't edible. And Max was a lot older than our little Davey," Marko threw an arm around David's shoulder, and the bleach-blonde vampire glared at him until Marko removed it. He stepped away, holding his hands up nervously. He'd gone just a little too far...but hopefully David would forget by the time they were done with this crazy shit.

"I hate to admit it...but we don't have any other ideas. We could at least try this one," Dwayne shook his head, bewildered that he was actively willing to encourage Paul to put one of his stupid ideas into action. Considering the last one had him engaged to his dinner in a lacy dress, his lack of faith in Paul's mental faculties was understandable.

"Okay, arm yourselves, ladies!" Paul scooped up several branches and took off into the sky. Thorn stretched and padded towards one of the mangled trees, lying down to relax and watch. He wouldn't be of much use until they were in the house, anyway.

David hefted up a branch and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He hadn't really explored his powers since he'd inherited them from Max's death, and hadn't really had a reason to do it either. So who knew? Maybe this would be a good thing.

 _"Michael. Figure out a way to flip the sprinklers on. We gotta make sure they use all the water. Try not to get your ass toasted in the process,"_ he sent his thoughts out to his childe in the house.

 _"Fucking psycho..."_ Michael's incredulous response.

 _"Yeah, but that's what you love about him, isn't it, Mikey?"_ Marko joked, scooping up his own armful of branches and following Paul.


	27. Chapter 27: Lawn Games

Author's notes: Just a little math to keep things simple for you guys. When Jackie mentioned that there were 6 other hunters upstairs, she was also referring to the two men who left, because she was going on the assumption that they would still be trapped there due to the hellhound outside the house. They never bothered bringing up the subject again, so Mike really has no way of knowing that there were only 4 hunters upstairs when the last one came down to check on the girls. That makes the remaining count 3, now. And I had SO MUCH FUN writing this chapter.

* * *

Michael reluctantly returned to the cell he'd just spent one of the worst days of his life in, hoping Sam's girlfriend had left the batteries lying somewhere on the ground. But no such luck...she probably put them in her pocket. That meant he'd have to go upstairs and sneak around the house until he found some spares, and hope the remaining hunters didn't come down to check the basement before he did it. Not that he really knew what was going on outside anymore, or even _why_ David wanted him to set the sprinklers off.

He gave a huff of frustration as he slipped up the basement steps, tucking his hands into his pockets. Human or vampire, it looked like Michael would always be the odd man out when it came to rescue plans. Not that he really needed it anymore. He was a little cocky now, casting a glance behind him to survey the carnage below. Not bad, when you considered the fact that last year a group of inexperienced teenagers had managed to take down the rest of the boys easily, and he'd managed to take on three hunters with some knowledge from what he could tell... _man_ he was good.

 _"Hurry up!"_ David snapped in his mind, almost as if he sensed Michael stalling and gloating over his accomplishments.

 _"Yeah, yeah..."_ Michael grunted, slowly pushing the basement door open and peeking outside. There was a small alcove in front of him that led to a relatively cramped kitchen, and just beyond that, there was a wide arch leading into a living room. Inside he recognized the remainders of the group that had dragged him to the house the previous night, but that was only 3. So...he'd have to keep an eye open, just in case more were hiding out somewhere. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on his surroundings. He'd use a trick Marko had taught him when he let a meal get away a couple of months ago. Imagining a radio in his head, he reached forward and cranked the volume up as loud as it could go, gritting his teeth in preparation for the feedback. It was intense. He could hear the wind blowing against the window shutters outside, mice scrambling under the floorboards, an incessant squeaking and cracking as the house around him struggled to settle, the whining protest of the plumbing in the kitchen sink, and finally...heartbeats. Blood pumping. The three in the living room...two of them racing, while one was alarmingly calm. In a situation like this, it could only be the heart of a sociopath. He'd only heard it once before, and they were shit meals.

Beyond those three, he heard more...three others in another room. Two of them calm, while the other was racing. But he seriously doubted there were two more sociopaths in the house, so they were likely blissfully unaware of the shit going down. Michael took a deep breath and stepped through the basement door, pressing himself silently against the wall and sliding around the alcove until he was tucked into a darkened corner of the kitchen. They didn't notice him. But from this vantage point, he could see a set of stairs just across the living room, and he suspected they'd lead to the other members of the household. For a moment he pondered whether he should try to sneak up there and ask for some batteries, but decided against it. That would just be stupid. His eyes scanned the kitchen again, and gradually, he found himself becoming more and more frustrated with this situation. He had no fucking clue what to do, and the noises were starting to grate on his nerves. He wasn't used to listening this hard for this long to his surroundings...and that god damned wall clock by the stove-...

Michael's eyes darted back towards the living room, where the man with the calm heart, the sociopath shifted in his chair and casually pointed a sharp knife at one of the men by the door. The one who seemed to be in charge of this bullshit, from what Michael had gathered the night before.

"Don't worry so much about it, Uncle Cliff. When we make it through the night, this is your last big make. You'll get your pension. We'll all be sitting pretty...and your family will be safer than ever before. Just imagine, you'll be able to let your little pipsqueaks run around the boardwalk whenever the fuck they want. No need to worry about finding them in a ditch the next morning, or washed up on the beach...and gosh, how awful your oldest daughter would look, with her throat shredded to pieces. I think it would clash with that little hot pink motif she's trying to pull off, don't you?" He sounded quite casual, speaking to the man, Cliff. It was one thing for someone like David or the others to talk like that about dead people, but they were vampires for fuck's sake. That was just in their nature. And even though maybe, just maybe, Michael felt the same way now about killing...especially after his little joyride downstairs...he remembered what it was like to have a conscience, or at least the ability to empathize.

"Frankie, you may be good at what you do. You may have some sway with your god damned uncle being head of this whole organization, but you say one more word about my daughter or the rest of my family...I'll wring your neck," Cliff growled, hefting up his crossbow with a frown.

"Easy there, Cliff. We're all friends here," The other man at the door tried to calm him. "Frankie didn't mean it, did you, Frankie?" He looked back towards the man on the easy chair.

As engrossing as this little scene was, Michael had to get his hands on that wall clock before they realized their other friends weren't coming back to join in on their party. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, though he really didn't need to breathe...it was more for the feeling than necessity...he flew across the kitchen and yanked the clock off the wall.

Cliff jerked around, leaning forward with a scowl on his face. Michael slipped back into the shadows of the kitchen, hoping they hadn't noticed him.

"You hear that?" Cliff scowled.

"You already checked on your wife and kids twice, Cliff. They're fine. We can't afford to split up every five minutes just to make you feel like you're a good daddy," Frankie replied dryly.

Michael shook his head, prying the back of the clock off and digging the batteries out before he gently placed the clock on the stove and pulled the remote out of his jacket pocket so he could slip the batteries inside. He wondered what that Frankie guy would be like if he were turned. Would he be different? Or would he be even worse? Food for thought, he supposed, when he finally pressed a few buttons on the remote, testing the functions until he finally heard the whisper of water falling against the front windows outside.

"Guess she lost track of time," the man beside Cliff grunted.

"That's Jackie for you. Always cutting it so fucking close...bitch is going to get herself killed one of these days," Frankie snorted, leaning back in his chair. "Lower your crossbow, Cliff. You might hurt someone."

* * *

"UGHHHH! I just gelled my hair!" Roxie shifted on the ground, whining. "I guess they found those batteries..." She twisted, glancing over at Sam. "Sorry, Killer. They probably turned those lights on in the basement...hope your bro doesn't mind getting a tan. But don't worry, we'll get outta this...totes promise," she sighed, shaking her head to let a few droplets of water fly off into the grass.

"Lights?" Sam squinted, leaning forward, "what lights?"

"UV lights, babe. They looked like mega strong ones too. Pretty much just like pumping straight sunlight into a potted plant, right through the vein, if y'know what I mean."

Sam paled, "...s...sunlight? They used UV lights...on my brother?!"

Roxie nodded slowly, frowning, "what? What's wrong?"

"HE'S A VAMPIRE ROXIE! THEY JUST KILLED MIKE!" Sam shouted, screaming as he tried to pull away from the ropes that restrained him, his heart pumping a mile a minute while his world came crashing down around his shoulders. Mike was dead. And not just undead. Dead dead.

" **YOU DICKHEADS KILLED MY BROTHER**!" Sam shouted towards the house, his voice cracking with rage and a shattered heart. Losing Mike once was awful. A second time...he couldn't handle it.

Beside him, Alan ceased to stir. Star had taken flight from his body, and was quickly hurtling towards the house, more enraged than she'd ever been when she was back in the cave plotting 'revenge' and taunting the boys in their dreams. This time, she would be much...much worse.

Roxie stared at Sam, unable to speak. Finally, it looked like the reality of the situation was clicking in her mind...and she felt awful. She would never forgive her father.

* * *

 _"Showtime! Gentlemen, start your engines!"_ Paul's voice echoed in the boy's minds as they hefted out the branches in front of them.

 _"Hold on, let me focus,"_ David squeezed his eyes shut, moderately irritated by the drama queen several dozen feet below them. Just as melodramatic as Michael when he waxed poetic about Star's dead ass.

Marko hummed the jeopardy tune.

 _"Hush,"_ Dwayne shook his head. Now wasn't the time to be playing around.

David thought of the Chinese food. He'd have to dig into the minds of the people he was tricking...and since he didn't really have eye contact with the hunters in question, it was a lot tougher. He had to simultaneously latch onto several minds at once, unaware of exactly who or what he was latching onto. Even the kids below were a part of it, as large scale as this illusion would have to be. Now, he looked at the branches they held, and willed the people below to hear and see the images he began to paint in his mind, just as he and the boys let go of their burdens and watched them fall.

 _"Let's see if I can exaggerate these fuckers just a little bit, and remind the assholes down below why they don't mess with the Lost Boys,"_ David chuckled, delighted as he explored this new level of power he held. Really, he should find more excuses to experiment like this. Max was always such a dick about giving them any information, David felt like he was floundering as a head vampire, having to stumble onto his abilities bit by bit without any guidance...except for maybe, apparently, a crazy plan or two from Paul.

* * *

"Holy crap!" Roxie gasped, staring up above her. Through the haze of the sprinkling water, she saw several men drifting through the night air, hurtling towards the yard at unbelievable speeds. Some of them looked like the dudes Sam's brother hung out with. Some of them looked new...but they all looked...terrifying. Long claws distended from their spread arms, dripping with gore and blood, as if they'd just torn into fresh carcasses and smeared themselves thoroughly with the kills. Their mouths were filled with sharp, gnarly fangs...yellowed and hanging low in front of their chins. None of them looked like they were acquainted with the fine art of brushing their hair...or changing their clothes either. Big clumps of dirt clung to their clothes, like they'd just dragged themselves out of muddy ditches just in time to party down.

"Fffffffuck!" Edgar shrieked, waking up right at the moment one of the larger hulking vampires swung to the ground in front of him...

But they didn't have long to really panic. Because no sooner had the monsters touched the ground, they began to wail, their screams shattering the silence around them. Roxanne glanced towards the house, where she saw a curtain in the front window shifting. This was...this was an acid trip, there was no doubt about that.

"Killer, be brave. I'm here for you, I'll always be here for you!" She whispered, trying to lean closer to Sam, who was still thrashing under the rope, enraged about his brother's death far more than he was terrified of the vampires surrounding them, who had begun to...melt...oddly enough. Roxanne looked in front of her where one of them had landed, just in time to see eyeballs sinking into a bloody skull, and a lifeless body fall to the ground. The more the sprinklers ran, the more gruesome the images around them became, until finally...it stopped. There was no more water left. And all that remained were several dozen skeletons, with smoke wafting into the air.

Roxanne squinted, shaking her head. She could swear she heard a cackling up above, as someone shouted 'what a world' over and over again.

* * *

" _Shut the fuck up, Paulie_ ," Marko snickered, nudging the other vampire.

 _"Hey, just trying to help set the mood,"_ He grinned back, fangs descending. By now they were all so excited about this whole episode, they had completely morphed.

 _"You've got quite an imagination,"_ Dwayne quirked an eyebrow at David, who was silent, arms crossed as he surveyed the landscape below.

"Now we've just got to wait for them to come outside," he stated, sounding almost bored. But they all knew that was far from the case.

 _"Shit, what did you do? The old fuck in here is having a heart attack,"_ Michael's voice interrupted their thoughts.

 _"I guess that's one more down,"_ David replied, smirking.

" _He's getting out lucky_ ," Paul complained, crossing his arms.


	28. Chapter 28: They're not Dead, Jim

Author's notes: Wasn't really satisfied with this chapter. :\ Can't win them all, I guess.

* * *

As Star embedded herself in Cliff's chest, she delved deep into herself for the dark rage that had driven her to cling to the living world after death. The anger and bitterness Max had somehow created in her, when the pills had done their work, and she was no longer the girl that used to dream of days on the beach with Laddie and Michael, but a shapeless mass of shadows. She indulged the hatred again, nurtured it as she wrestled with Cliff's mind, testing just how far she could truly go and just how much she could do to a human being.

"You alright?" The man beside him reached out to touch Cliff's shoulder, and the leader of the group recoiled, his face crumpling as he fell to his knees and clutched at his chest with his one free hand, flailing at the ground with his other as he refused to release his grip on the crossbow. His jaw hurt. His head hurt. His teeth hurt. He began to wretch, trying to hold back the contents of his stomach as he did so.

Bruce, the man beside him, watched in horror. Unsure exactly how to handle losing one of their number when they still had to check on the remains of the vampires outside. And Frankie? Frankie was fascinated. He slid forward in his chair, lowering his head to try and meet Cliff's gaze, "you having a heart attack, Uncle?" He asked quietly, not offering any aid whatsoever.

"Yes," Cliff gasped out, clenching his teeth as he pressed himself up against the wall behind him for support. Of all the times for his heart to give out on him, tonight was the night. But it came on all at once, out of nowhere, and he just couldn't understand it. He'd had a heart attack before, and it wasn't like you saw in the movies. Not dramatic and sudden. Not like this at all.

"Guess you're down for the count then," Frankie mumbled under his breath, standing up and pointing his knife towards Cliff while he fingered his own crossbow he'd kept on a small table beside his easy chair. "Don't worry. Once we clean up this mess, Bruce'll drive you to the hospital. If you're still kicking. But you understand, don't you? Gotta take care of all this shit," he swept his hand towards the front door. "Wouldn't want to leave any evidence for other biters to find out about our little operation, would we?"

"Untie the kids first," Cliff grunted, squeezing his eyes shut tight while Bruce knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to grip tightly to Bruce's hand, assuring him that he would be fine. The pain was beginning to ease a little.

"Are you sure I can't take him, Frankie? He don't look so good." He looked back towards the other man, who gave a quick shake of his head in response.

" _No_ ," Frankie responded coldly, "we gotta make sure this is done. Something tells me it was all just a little too easy. I'm gonna need you to go outside and check the perimeter. Make sure we got em all. Then after that, _maybe._ Just _maybe_ we'll let his bitch in the other room take care of him. But right now, we got priorities, and a hunter who can't even walk out to his god damned front lawn ain't one of them."

Star wanted to finish it now. Kill the man she was inside, leap to the next one, and keep doing it until they were all lying dead on the living room floor. But something inside had finally snapped when she got a firm grip on the man's heart, and it was as if all at once the black energy keeping her going died away. She struggled, kicked, bit, scratched, and flailed at the presence that seemed to be yanking her away from the man's body, from the house, from the property, and towards the sky...but there was nothing she could do. Something was pulling her away, and she didn't have the energy to fight it anymore.

 _"Michael!"_ She shouted, as she floated off towards the unknown force. Purgatory had finally found her, after this little show, and it was calling Star home.

* * *

Michael remained in the kitchen, watching the exchange in a detached way. He had actually wanted to kill Cliff himself, given he had seemed to have such a major hand in this whole mess. But it didn't seem very sporting now, dining on a guy already in the process of dying. That kinda took most of the fun out of it. Somehow he knew, too, the others outside would be pretty disappointed if they didn't get to draw a little blood of their own tonight.

He slunk further across the kitchen floor, ducking under the table, and watching as the man beside Cliff helped him climb to his feet to half-drag him to the couch so he wouldn't be blocking the door anymore. Then the man paused and turned a fearful eye back to Frankie, who gave him a quick nod, and yanked the door open so he could step out into the night air.

Just through that opening, Michael's eyes lit on the group of teenagers strapped down in the middle of the yard, and when he heard Sam's screams, black rage overtook him. They'd used his brother as bait?! Fuck it, he wasn't waiting around anymore. He was taking them all out. _Right. Now._

His major mistake wasn't revealing himself, nor was it when he launched his attack on the hunters in the living room. No...his mistake was going after Cliff _first._ There was a reason Lucy had warned him to get better control of his temper. Unfortunately, he was going to have to learn the hard way. Again.

* * *

When the door drifted open, the boys were silent. Watching. Waiting. Let the people inside come out. Let them think they were completely safe. Let them think they'd won. After all, they'd put such a lot of effort into their little set-up. They deserved to celebrate a little before their guts were used for fertilizer on the flower beds.

David descended, just enough to get a closer look, to be closer to Michael in the house...but still well hidden in the darkness of the night sky. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, silver fingers reaching through the mist doing very little to illuminate the Lost Boys, and it would serve them well to hide just a little longer.

"Don't you worry, now," a voice called out as a tall bearded man in camouflage stepped out of the house, pellet gun in one hand, a hunting knife in the other. A line of stakes on a belt were strapped across his chest, as if they'd do him any good if he wasn't holding them in his fists when a vampire went after him. It was all for show, of course. Something the 'hunter' imagined probably made him look like more of a threat, and less of a meal waiting to be torn into. "Your daddy's inside, girl, and he's real proud of you. Being brave, sticking out around here with your friends," the man continued to talk as he approached the teenagers tied to the car engine in the yard.

Edgar was looking about, trembling, terrified, confused. Unable to speak. Alan was unconscious. Roxanne was scowling at the man who approached them, and Sam...

" **ASS-EATING SHIT MUNCHER!** " Sam shrieked, shaking his head wildly, " **CROTCH-MONKEY! DUMPSTER BABY!** " He was struggling to come up with more insults, flinging them into the man's face as if they were weapons, while the very confused hunter approached.

"Now, son, I know this was all a bit much for your first run-in with the stuff that goes on in Santa Carla," the hunter replied calmly, getting closer to them and hefting up his knife in his hand so he could cut the ropes, "but you don't gotta start talking like that. Girls don't need to hear those kinds of things," he shook his head. "Ain't right. Ain't nice."

"What the hell do you know about being nice?!" Sam demanded.

The boy bit down on his bottom lip hard, fuming and glaring. He'd wait until he was free before he wailed on the man, maybe he'd even manage to get the knife and avenge Michael's death. David listened in on all these thoughts, amused. He should calm the kid down, he supposed, before he got himself killed trying to take on a man more than twice his size...buuuuut...

Well, _David_ didn't really give a shit about the kid. If Michael wanted to protect him, he could get his ass outside and deal with it. After all, by now it should be child's play for him to get to the front door, with one less hunter in the house to worry about.

 _"Can we come down already? I'm tired of waiting,"_ Marko protested in David's mind, sailing towards David and anxiously plucking at the leader's sleeve with an excited grin plastered on his face. With his fangs drawn, it was far more on the demonic side than the baby-ish effect it normally had.

 _"Go ahead,"_ David gestured towards the yard. No sooner had he given his permission, than all three of the other Lost Boys were on the ground, boots crunching over broken bits of wood as the illusion of their vampire army began to fade and reveal the truth around them. The fake smoke popping out of existence made for quite an amusing sight. One second it was there, and the next...nothing. The air about them was sharp and clear. As for the hunter...he was too busy focusing on cutting the ropes that bound the teenagers to notice, until it was too late. The last thing he ever saw was the surprisingly rare expression of dark glee on Dwayne's face before his head was torn clean off, and the dark-haired vampire dined from his neck as if he were a milk jug. But he wasn't sharing, so he didn't need to worry too much about manners.

Sam and Roxanne scrambled away from the car engine, their ropes safely cut, and Sam hurried to reach for Edgar so he could draw the delirious Frog brother to his feet. This was all just too much for him right now, and he'd decided to take a mental vacation. The younger Emerson still wanted revenge, and still wanted to take it out on whoever was left in the house...but he also didn't put it past the Lost Boys to eat him now that his brother wasn't around to protect him anymore.

Marko sidled up in front of them, grinning still, and cocked his head as he waved his fingers in front of Sam's face, "boo!" He made as if to jump at him.

Sam panicked, shrieking and shoving Edgar ahead of him towards the front door of the house. Marko spun about with his arms crossed, hovering a few feet in the air and cackling madly. Far from the vulnerable creature he'd been that fateful afternoon last summer when the gruffer Frog brother had tried nailing him with a stake. It was no surprise he was enjoying their fear so much.

"Mikey's gonna kill you for that," Paul laughed with him, turning towards Roxanne, who was kneeling down and dragging Alan after her. She didn't look at any of them, avoided even making eye contact. Didn't even have some crazy theory or idea to spout out at them. It looked like being terrified for her life actually made the girl act and think like a normal person. What a shame.

Roxanne sobbed, struggling to get to the house with the dead weight in her arms, but she wasn't the sort of person to just leave someone behind to get slaughtered by a pack of bloodthirsty monsters. Even if she'd only begun to believe in them about five minutes ago.

"C'moooon, man! Help me out here!" She squeaked, several feet away from the door by now. Dwayne had dropped his quarry, and was busy licking his fingers, while Paul and Marko both hovered menacingly, edging closer...but not really fast enough to catch up.

" _They're playing with us_..." Roxanne realized, blinking several times and throwing her head back as her sunglasses began to slip down. Ugh, she was going to get rid of these stupid things. They really weren't worth the trouble of making a fashion statement if they were going to obstruct her vision while vampires hovered nearby on the verge of tearing her throat out.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Roxanne panted, repeating the words over and over again with each step towards the house to give her strength. Alan was still unresponsive. She definitely decided now that she did _not_ like Sam's friends anymore. They were far more trouble than they were worth, and definitely dead weight. If she didn't have a sense of honor, she'd ditch Alan in the lawn right there and then. Unfortunately, she was raised better than that.

David watched the scene play out, amused, though slightly surprised Michael wasn't outside by now to bitch at him for scaring his baby brother like that.

 _"Michael,"_ he called out, _"what's taking you so long?"_

 _"...Fuck...fuck...arrow in my leg...shit, shit, shit...holy water on my face. Can't think. Can't stand. **Why the hell does it burn so much?!** " _Michael's fearful thoughts screamed in his mind, panicked and confused. He'd never had a run-in with holy water before, of course. Had no idea how painful it could be. He hadn't even been in the room to see it do the dirty work on Paul, after all. With a menacing hiss, David sailed towards the house, and the others followed without a second thought.


	29. Chapter 29: Backlash

Author's notes: I think I might work on another LB story when I'm wrapping this one up, or perhaps a Near Dark idea I have bouncing around in my head. We'll see. Still got a few more chapters to go on this one, but let me know what you guys think. Anyway, the words flowed a lot easier when I wrote this chapter today, thankfully. But I do warn you that this is probably the most disturbing chapter in the series, though the content does not get incredibly descriptive, the death of a child is involved. I have never hated a character I made up as much as I hate this one.

* * *

Cliff had been a good distraction. Of course Frankie had heard the movement in the kitchen. That was why he'd kept the crossbow closer. That was why he'd tucked his hand under his coat to palm a flask of holy water from his shirt breast pocket. And that was why he was prepared when the creature in the shadows behind them lashed out to attack the older man on the couch. He didn't much care whether he hit Cliff or not, which was why his trigger finger didn't even shake as he pulled it, grinning wildly when the vampire seized back in pain and shrieked with the feel of the arrow ripping into his thigh as he released his hold on the 'leader' of the hunters, letting him fall back onto the cough with a shout.

The vampire spun about to attack, and Frankie was ready for him. One quick flip of his thumb, the lid of the flask was off. At the same time the monster lashed out, he did the same, and giddy energy filled him at the sight of the water. The _water_ doing it's work. Like acid, burning into the blood-sucker's skin, puckering and melting away pockmarks all about his face. Anger and pain warred in those peculiar golden eyes as the vampire stumbled back to the ground, the arrow finally doing it's job an immobilizing him on the ground.

"Can't heal too good with wood in you, huh?" Frankie asked, curiously, calmly as he stepped forward and gave Michael a quick kick to the ribs. Outside, it sounded like there was screaming. So the other vamps were probably still alive...figured this shit would all hit the fan. But Frankie was clever. He always had back-up plans.

"Why don't you come with me, huh?" He knelt down and grabbed the vampire by his shirt collar, dragging him into the kitchen and pulling him up against his chest until he was securely braced with the wood paneling safely guarding his back. An eye trained on the door, Frankie held his bowie knife to the vampire's throat, satisfied when it elicited a hiss from his victim.

"Wondering why ya can't move?" Frankie asked, shifting slightly so the blade just barely cut at the vampire's skin, drawing a very thin line of blood.

"Ash. Ash wood, my friend. Silver arrowheads dipped in rose oil. Not a lotta people know about that trick with roses. Burns right through your kind, don't it? Hurts like a mother fucker? I didn't actually think it would work, though. Glad to know I was right. I...am going to enjoy this."

It was at that moment the first two teenagers came stumbling into the house, two of the boys. One of them, from what he could surmise, more than a little enraged. And when he was able to discern the two men pressed up against the wall in the kitchen, even more so.

"Let him go!" The blonde boy shouted, stepping forward.

"No. Sit down." Frankie said flatly, shifting the knife to dig just a little deeper, and the vampire practically screamed.

"Listen to him, Sam," it whispered harshly past a mouthful of blood. The ash wood in his leg wouldn't kill him, but it was sure as hell doing a good job at burning through his insides, from what Frankie could tell.

"Mike, you're...I thought you were dead," the kid, Sam whimpered as he fell to the ground and dragged the other boy down with him, not even daring to doubt Frankie would kill the vampire in his grasp.

"Wouldja look at that, Cliff?" Frankie sneered, "your little girl's friends are all buddy buddy with a buncha fucking vampires. She's probably the reason this one got out, too. How does it feel knowing you raised a bimbo, huh?" He taunted the bruised and practically incapacitated older man on the couch, who was rubbing at his throat where the vampire had been strangling him.

"DADDY!" A shout rang through the air, piercing everyone's ear drums. Even Frankie flinched, irritated at the sound. Roxanne was approaching the door, dragging another one of her friends inside with her.

"Roxanne, we'll talk later," Cliff rasped through his bruised throat, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "But you gotta keep quiet, honey," he advised. Fearful that Frankie would do something to her, now that he had the wild idea in his head she was somehow in league with the things they were fighting. He knew she wasn't like that. Knew she was a smart girl, even though she maybe didn't tend to really give anyone that impression. At all.

"You don't understand! They're coming!" She whispered, dropping to the ground with the other boy, obviously exhausted in more ways than one.

Cliff's eyebrows rose in alarm, and even Frankie was given room to pause. Suddenly, it seemed like his final plan of action was crashing down on his shoulders before he could even set it into motion. Gripping the knife, he didn't even react when the vampire in his hold hissed again, reaching up towards his neck with weakened hands and trying to grasp at the blade pressing against his flesh. But he was too weak now to do much. That would work in Frankie's favor, he hoped, as thoughts rushed through his mind, and the front door was blown off it's hinges in a shower of splintered wood and bits of metal, as four very angry-looking vampires floated into the room. The one at the forefront of them all with eyes glowing as bright as fire, and trained right on Frankie's own.

* * *

With nothing left to do but either wait and hope the others could somehow save him in time, Michael listened in on the hunter's thoughts. They were a jumbled mass, whispers piling on top of each other, nothing too solid or firm to grasp on to. Just...dark and empty. There was nothing comprehensible in this man's mind. At least not to Michael.

 _"D...David..."_ he clenched his eyes shut tightly as he felt the warmth of his own blood trickling down his neck to stain his already pretty bloodied shirt.

 _"I can't let you go anywhere on your own, can I?"_ David replied, keeping his eyes trained on the hunter.

 _"Fuck you,"_ Michael almost managed a weak laugh through another mouthful of blood. Something about the situation was funny. Even if he was pretty much almost dead, they could still find reasons to fight about something.

Cliff and the other humans in the room were frozen with fear, and none of the Lost Boys seemed to care much. They were focused on Michael and Frankie.

"Listen. I don't want to kill him," Frankie spoke up, smiling. In the face of his own death, he somehow managed to look casual and almost happy. Like he had no clue the razor edge he balanced on, because something inside the man told him there was always some way he could weasel out of anything. "I just want to make a deal with you," he continued, this time not pushing the blade any deeper to prove his point. Clearly, it would be a bad idea. The gesture wouldn't really carry the same weight with a pack of enraged vampires.

"Let him go. _Now_." David's voice was ice. His eyes were fire. The promise behind it all was a very slow and very painful eternity of hell for Frankie's final minutes alive. Though at this point, it didn't really seem like there was a way the hunter would get out of this alive.

"We both know if I do that, then I've got nothing to bargain with. I mean, it ain't likely you'll listen to reason, after all they've put you through," Frankie nodded towards Cliff on the couch, as if he had nothing to do with the shit that had happened tonight. Even though he'd been one of the primary instigators, and just so happened to be holding an injured member of the pack at knife point. He was too stubborn to realize...he'd lost.

"You can die quickly. You can die slow. Make your choice." David hissed, clenching his fists until his claws dug into his palms, and little drops of crimson began to drip down and paint tiny spots on the carpet.

 _"Just make him think you're listening, David. He'll let Michael go when you've got him convinced,"_ Dwayne suggested.

David wasn't listening. He'd do this _his_ way. Because, ultimately, _he_ was in charge. No more advice. No more crazy plans. This was going to be _his_ decision.

 _"Please. Take your time."_ Michael's eyes fluttered as he sent out his sarcastic thought towards the leader of their pack. _"There's no rush at all. This is one big fucking picnic right now."_

Frankie licked his lips, smiling even wider. Nobody had moved. He was still alive. So they must be listening. "I'm smart. I'm fast. I've already got one of you pinned. Don't you think...maybe you might want another member? Someone like me?" He raised his eyebrows, nodding as he continued to talk, "I already know how to hunt, can track just about anything. I'd be an asset. I'd be perfect." He was so damned confident. Absolutely sure now that he would succeed.

David un-clenched his fists and slowly drifted to the ground, crossing his arms and...smiling. "Go on. Tell me more," he urged.

 _"God damn it, David,"_ Michael growled in his mind, even as he began to drift on a cloud of consciousness.

 _"Quiet!"_ David's eyes flitted towards Michael's, a warning and a command, and then he was focused one more on Frankie.

"It's not too hard to kill a guy. I'm real creative too," Frankie continued, growing excited. "Got some practice bodies buried in my backyard. Right under a couple of rose bushes. Keeps them nice and red..."

There was a sharp intake of breath as Roxanne crawled towards Sam to take his hands into hers and squeeze them tightly. The teenagers were more than a little terrified now of just about everyone in the room. And Edgar...well...he'd decided to take a cue from Alan and faint dead away again. It was probably best that way.

"Paint a picture for me, huh? Pick the best kill you've ever made. Describe it." David urged, leaning forward and grinning nice and wide, as if he'd love to have a nice bedtime story from Frankie right now more than anything else in the world.

"Alright..." Frankie licked his lips eagerly, adjusting his grip on his knife, careful not to dig the blade deeper than it already was. "Back in high school, I started with a little girl...big blue eyes...soft hair...still have a bit of it in my wallet..."

And he did paint the image. A ghastly story about one of the many missing children in the city. What's worse, his own baby sister. Right after she'd come home from school, he'd asked her if she wanted to play...Frankie almost got off on describing it detail by detail. It felt as if his vision was blurring while he told it, which he owed to the sheer ecstasy of tracing the memory he held so close to his heart. By the time he'd gotten to the end of his tale, even Paul's face was plastered with disgust.

* * *

 _"That's...wow..."_ Paul almost gagged.

 _"Make him suffer, David. Make him beg to die."_ Dwayne growled. None of them really had any particularly strong moral code that they followed. But they weren't human. Still, Dwayne in particular had a slight fondness for kids. At least, he didn't eat them, anyway.

 _"I'm getting there."_ David smirked, _"just wait. And watch."_ He focused more intently on Frankie's face as the man's story came to a close, so very confident he had earned their trust...perhaps even admiration for his creativity and sheer desire to kill just about anyone or anything. But his smile was soon wiped off his face. And the more David grinned, the more Frankie's own face became filled with terror...until he finally released Michael and let the knife fall to the ground with a clatter. He drew his fists up to his eyes, and began to shriek, thrashing against the wall as Michael sluggishly pulled away from him and stumbled across the kitchen until he fell into David's arms.

 _"Wh...what did you do?"_ Michael asked woozily as David pulled back to inspect him, lifting Michael's chin with one hand and leaning forward to nip at his bottom lip lightly before drawing his own wrist up and pressing it to Michael's mouth. No words needed to be spoken. Michael drank.

 _"Nothing. Nothing at all..."_ David's gaze flitted towards Frankie, and then back to Michael's golden eyes as the pockmarks from his burns began to heal. _"Just gave him a taste of his own medicine. He'll relive his sister's death as if it were his own until I decide I'm done with him."_ He paused. _"If I ever am."_


	30. Chapter 30: The Warning

"What do you want to do with this one?" Dwayne nodded in Cliff's direction, where the older man had remained silent throughout Frankie's madness and ultimate breaking at the hands of the vampires. There was no love lost for the man, and especially not after he learned the gruesome story of the little girl's demise. And here everyone had always been led to believe she was taken by vampires when she went outside to play a little too late at night.

"Do whatever you want," David shrugged, stroking a hand through Michael's hair as he fed. Now that he was regaining his faculties, the younger vampire really didn't appreciate the gesture, and especially when his brother was sitting quietly nearby watching them. It was one thing for Sam to _know_ about his fucked up situation with David, it was entirely another for him to actually have to see it in action.

 _"Stop it,"_ Michael growled, pulling away and giving David's wrist a few licks until the skin healed, and then slowly reaching down to his thigh to grasp at the arrow still embedded in the skin. It was going to hurt to pull it out, but leaving it in would be much worse.

 _"Don't be an idiot, Michael,"_ David's exasperated voice in his mind as the older vampire reached down to wrap his hand over the end of the arrow, breaking off the back portion of it. _"You'll make a bigger wound if you pull it out like that. You've got to push it through."_

 _"What?!"_ Michael exclaimed, scowling.

 _"Just fucking listen to me for once,"_ David gave him an equally dark look, slapping Michael's hand away and pushing the arrow the rest of the way through. Michael hissed in pain, reaching to the other side to yank the bloodied arrow out of David's hand and throw it to the ground. The minute the wood was no longer embedded in his skin, a wave of numbness washed over him, and his flesh began to mend. It was incredible.

"Mike..." Sam whispered, looking over at his brother with a meaningful look. "Are...are you okay?"

Just as he was about to respond, Paul jumped down in front of Sam and Roxanne, grinning with his fangs drawn, "he's right as rain, now. Aintcha, Mikey?" His voice was deep and feral, obviously he was actively putting in an effort to make it sound as gruesome as possible just to get a rise out of the traumatized teenagers.

"Back off, Paul," Michael rasped, crossing the living room slowly as his wounded thigh was still mending, and kneeling down to shove the other vampire aside. Paul snickered, scrambling away and floating up into the air to prop himself up on the back of the couch Cliff was lying on.

"Are _you_ okay?" Michael asked his brother, leaning forward to run a hand through Sam's hair and inspect his face. No cuts. No scratches. No bites...if there'd been even a small one, he'd flip his shit all over again.

"Let's tear him up and make a wish on the biggest piece," Paul suggested, grinning down at Cliff on the couch.

"Oh! I want the leg!" Marko joined in, leaning over the arm of the couch closest to Cliff's head and grinning down at him in a manic way reminiscent of Paul's own.

"Please..." Roxanne squeaked, pulling away from Sam and crawling towards her father to put a hand over one of his and daring a look towards David, "don't hurt him. He's sorry...he's really really sorry. You're sorry, right, Daddy?" She looked back at her father, eyes wide and fearful at the idea of seeing him drawn and quartered by a group of crazed vampires. She wasn't happy with him right now. Maybe didn't even think she wanted to live with him anymore after this whole fiasco, but she didn't want him to _die_.

"Whaddya think, boys?" David's amused smirk played on his face as he leaned against the side of the opening that led into the kitchen, arms crossed. He'd schooled his features back to normal by now. If it weren't for the blood on his hands, one might think he was a perfectly normal smug punk.

"I liked Paul's idea," Dwayne shrugged. "But I don't care either way."

Michael scowled at the girl, so very tempted to just ignore her pleas and do whatever the fuck he wanted. At this point, there was no love lost on him for the asshole on the couch who could have very well gotten his little brother killed if it had been any other pack of vampires on the front lawn.

"Mike..." Sam gripped at his brother's jacket, his eyes a silent plea to match his girlfriend's.

Looking back down at his little brother, Michael sighed, irritated in more ways than one. He wasn't about to just tell Sam to go screw himself, but...if something like this happened again, he probably would.

Paul was growing impatient, as he reached over to drag a claw down Cliff's cheek, drawing a small gasp from the man as blood welled up from the cut.

"Don't..." Michael licked his lips, "don't kill him." He looked at Roxanne, who looked like she was about to collapse in a heap from relief, the tension melting away from her shoulders.

"Come on! We hardly got to eat anything tonight!" Marko protested, climbing over the side of the couch and flopping down onto Cliff's legs, not too terribly phased when the man flinched and tried to pull away. He was a little too weak to do much at the moment.

"She saved my life. If we let him live, we're even. And then we've got a message to send out to the rest of them. Don't fuck with us," Michael shrugged.

 _"Is that what you really want?"_ David quirked an eyebrow. Michael glanced back over at him and shook his head.

 _"Not really. But Sam would never let me live it down if I ate his girlfriend's 'daddy'."_ It was true. Right now he'd like nothing more than to just see every single one of these hunters dead and gone, their entrails floating out in the ocean to wipe any evidence they'd ever been there off the face of the planet. But for Sam's sake. And...for the nutcase girl who'd saved his life...he'd restrain himself.

 _"How can we be sure he won't just send them after us once he's feeling better? The guy's an idiot."_ Dwayne was on the side of the camp that just wanted to tear the fucker to shreds and be done with it. To hell with what the younger Emerson thought, or whether it left his little bimbo girlfriend emotionally traumatized for the rest of her life.

Michael shrugged, turning to glance back at Dwayne, _"we don't. But Sam can keep an eye on him. He'll tell me if the douchebag goes back to hunting again. He's not in any real position to put up much of a fight right now anyway, so killing him wouldn't be as fun, would it?"_

 _"...I think it would,"_ Paul insisted, running his finger along the cut he'd made on Cliff's face and lapping up the blood again. He was getting impatient. The little tastes here and there were making it worse.

David pushed away from the entryway, crossing the living room to stand beside Michael, _"I'll give this to you once. But no more arguing. No more pouting. None of it, Michael. Understand?"_

The younger vampire resisted the urge to roll his eyes _, "yeah. I got it, 'mom'."_

 _"I'm not fucking joking about this."_

 _"I know you're not, okay?"_

They looked at each other for awhile, everyone else in the room silent while David and Michael had their private conversation. For the humans, it was uncomfortable. For Sam, it was disgusting...he could practically see the albino pack leader eye raping his brother right in front of him, and he was fairly certain he could have gone the rest of his life without ever watching that.

Finally, Paul pulled away from the couch with a huff, and Marko climbed off of Cliff's legs...but not without giving him a hungry grin and drawing his tongue across his fangs as a warning. And they left the house with Dwayne on their heels.

"Make it quick." David nodded towards Cliff, following the others, leaving Michael alone with the last three sane human beings in the living room, the two unconscious Frog brothers, and the screaming mess that had once been one of the most effective hunters in Cliff's group sobbing on the kitchen floor.

"Mike-" Sam began to talk, pushing himself to his feet. Michael held up a hand to silence him as he drew closer to the couch and knelt down to meet Cliff's gaze. His eyes remained golden, his fangs still out. He wasn't going to make an effort to put the man at ease. He didn't deserve that kind of courtesy. Roxanne backed away, though she kept a firm and reassuring grip on her father's hand.

"Listen to me. We're letting all of you live tonight. But not because any of us had a fucking change of heart. I couldn't care _less_ what happens to you, but your little girl here and my baby brother seem to think you're worth a second chance. What kind of father...no...what kind of human being uses kids to lure vampires to their front yard, huh? What would you have done if those sprinklers didn't work?" Michael demanded, grabbing Cliff's collar and pulling him into a sitting position. He didn't struggle, merely remained silent while the vampire spoke to him. He wasn't a complete idiot. And frankly, his throat was too swollen right now to say much anyway.

"You need to take a good long look in the mirror next time you think you need to go out hunting monsters. We kill because it's in our natures. What's your excuse?" Michael sneered, not surprised when Cliff's face was suddenly filled with shame as his words finally began to hit home.

"If I or any of my pack ever see you on the boardwalk, or anywhere in Santa Carla, you're dead. You got that? No games. No illusions. That's it. From now on, the second the sun starts to go down, you stay in your god damned house. And if I ever hear you're playing some kind of sick trick on my brother, or get it in your head that I'll change my mind, there won't be a warning."

With that, Michael shoved Cliff back onto the couch and stood up. His hands felt dirty even touching the man. He turned back to look down at his brother, who'd watched the whole exchange silently.

"Sammy..." He whispered his little brother's name, concern lacing his voice. It was far from the threatening growl he'd used on Roxanne's father.

"It's okay, Mike...I'm okay," Sam shook his head, trying to smile. "Just...just a little shaken up, y'know? I'll be fine."

Michael knelt down to touch his shoulder, and was relieved when Sam didn't pull away. "Sorry you had to see that..."

Sam shrugged, shaking his head, "nah...he kinda had it coming...no offense, Roxie."

"No...you're right. Daddy's an idiot," Roxanne shook her head. She didn't have the hint of trust in her voice for Michael that Sam had, but he didn't much care. She wasn't family.

"Cliff? **CLIFF**?!" There was the sound of a hand banging on a door from upstairs. Roxanne's eyes darted to the ceiling and she smirked, "guess we gotta let mom and the brats out...you probably wanna beat it before they get down here. She kinda doesn't like having guests in the house..."

Michael snorted, straightening up and heading for the door.

"See ya tomorrow night, Sammy."

"Really?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Maybe...We'll see. Don't think I'll be alone, though...David's probably going to be a bitch about it."

The living room was silent when he left, except of course for the whimpering and jibbering coming from the kitchen soapbox formerly known as Frankie. Roxanne, of course, was the first person to speak.

"So...Killer...I know they're definitely vampires and all...but...you think maybe...maybe vampires come from outer space?"


	31. Epilogue

_**Six Weeks Later**_

Normal. Sam didn't even know the meaning of the word anymore. Once upon a time, he thought 'normal' was an unchanging state of being. Sometimes there would be new events in his life, but they couldn't shake the definition of normal, at the end of the day. And now? A year ago. And especially two years ago...he'd look at a day like today and think 'yeah...that's not normal. I must be main lining 24/7, cause that's definitely...not normal...'

Nowadays, normal was seeing Mike on the boardwalk once in awhile, or getting him to visit sometimes on Friday nights to have dinner together with mom. Not that they really liked having the rest of his friends at the house joining in, especially since Paul was such a pig at the table (rival only to Alan). And he didn't see why they thought it was funny to join in on family dinners, when they really didn't even need to eat food in the first place. Always hanging around when Mike wasn't looking, giving him menacing glances as if maybe they'd snap his neck for fun one of these days just to get a rise out of his brother, or let Thorn use him as a chew toy if they got bored.

And Roxie wasn't normal. No, far from it. Meeting vampires in the flesh had only made her worse, if anything. Now she really was beginning to believe in some of her wackier theories she threw out to him when they were messing around. Like the fact that she thought their PE coach was big foot. Or her neighbor was a werewolf, masquerading as a poodle at night. Once in awhile, he'd look at her while she flipped through her favorite marvel comic series (Howard the Duck), tucked under the sheets with him, and wonder what he saw in her. Then she'd get bored reading, and enthusiastically remind him in more ways than one. Maybe the crazy helped. He wasn't sure...and thinking about it too much bugged him, made him worry he was just as bad as her and everyone else.

The Frogs...god, he'd never thought Ed and Alan would turn into the perfect models of 'normal' after what they'd been through. But after the incident with the hunters, they were a lot less interested in just about anything supernatural. Even their comic collections had shrunk considerably down to the basics before they headed back to Florida. But Lucy told them they were welcome to visit whenever they liked, and the funny looks Ed gave her before they got on that bus...he couldn't help but shiver in disgust. Maybe Ed would never really change...

Sometimes, Sam wondered if his grandpa was the most normal person in the house, next to his mom. Sometimes he'd practice Indian walking just to slip into the workshop and see if grandpa would notice him. But then one day he walked in on him having a conversation alone (or more accurately, with grandma) while he was stuffing a raccoon...and he realized that...Grandpa Emerson was still the crazy one.

"Well, I don't care if I played kick the can. The box and the ashes in it are in Poland, and the old bastard's ghost went with it. Ain't much chance of anybody opening it up and spillin' a buncha blood all over it, so we're gonna be just fine. So stop yelling at me, Emma. Yes, I told you me and the widow was through! I just gotta take that cocker spaniel over to her house tonight-...it's my job. She paid me. No, she paid me for the _dog_ , not-..."

Sam quickly closed the door to Grandpa Emerson's workshop and shook his head, turning away and taking a deep breath. Yeah. Normal. What the hell was normal, anyway? He sure as hell didn't know.

* * *

All of the boys except for Paul, who was mysteriously absent, leaned against their bikes on the boardwalk, passing a laced cigarette back and forth and snickering, though Michael declined. He wasn't nearly as argumentative these days, but he still thought that stuff was shit. Sometimes he liked to think if he'd never taken that first hit from David's joint the first time they brought him to the cave, he might have passed on the bottled blood.

" _Where you think Paulie is_?" Marko wondered, scratching the back of his neck and yawning.

 _"Probably screwing around somewhere, being an idiot,"_ Dwayne shrugged, letting a puff of smoke slowly drift from his mouth before he passed the cigarette to David, smirking.

 _"I think I see him..."_ Michael nodded his head in the direction of a bobbing blond head weaving through the crowd. Within minutes, Paul was in front of them, bearing a large bouquet of roses and baby's breath.

"...The fuck?" David quirked an eyebrow, "Paul...you shouldn't have...you remembered our anniversary?" He asked dryly, tucking his cigarette in his lips.

"Nope, completely forgot. This is for someone else," Paul waggled his eyebrows, grinning.

"Dude...you're sick..." Marko smirked, biting on the tip of his thumb as he pressed his hand to his face.

They all knew who the flowers were for. He'd only managed to peel her panties once, but ever since...it was like he'd gotten a taste for crazy cooter. Almost every week he was coming up with a new plan of action, nearly getting himself julienned in the process. But he just wasn't giving up on it.

"I'm not dragging your ass out of that pit, this time," Dwayne frowned.

Michael crossed his arms and scowled, "she's too good for you, Paul."

David pushed away from his bike and threw an arm around Michael's shoulder, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, "don't worry, Mikey. _I'll_ never leave you for Paul or anyone else. You're stuck with me forever."

"...Fuck off, David." Michael turned his head, glaring at his master. But by now, it was mostly for show. Mostly.

* * *

Author's notes: This was probably one of the funnest stories/series I've ever tackled and managed to complete. For my regulars, my reviewers, I'd like to thank all of you for reading it and leaving comments...both short and long. Those little remarks are kind of what kept me going, and motivated me to finish this. At some point in the future, I may come back to this one with one final story set when Sam is an adult, but I'm not sure exactly when. The other idea I've got right now for a Lost Boys fic is more Star/Michael-centric with David kind of throwing himself in at a later point. Because that's David for you. And that's probably the one I'll work on first. Anyway. Thank you. You're amazing. You're wonderful. And you're the best readers I've ever had.


End file.
